Lyrics
Sitting on a sack of beans
Sitting down in New Orleans
You wouldn't believe what I've seen
Sitting on that sack of beans
Lunatics on pogo sticks
Another southern fried freak on a crucifix
Hicks don't mix with politics
People on the street just kickin' to the licks
Yes, my favorite place to be
Is not a land called Honahlee
Mentally or physically
I wanna be in New Orleans
Oh good brother, just when I thought
That I had seen it all
My eyes popped out, my dick got hard
And I dropped my jaw
I saw a bird walking down the block
Name Apache Rose Peacock
I could not speak, I was in shock
I told my knees to please not knock
Yes, my favorite place to be
Is not a land called Honahlee
Mentally or physically
I wanna be in New Orleans
A little boy came along
Name of Louis Armstrong
Said that girl who left me silly
She liked the looks of me and my willy
So I found her in the quarter
Good God, how I adored her
Oh she made me feel so cozy
When she told me I could call her Rosey
I kiss your hair, your skin so bare
I'll take you with me girl anywhere
You fare well in stormy weather
I never met a girl that I liked better
Twinkle twinkle, little star
Shining down on my blue car
Driving down the boulevard
She was soft and I was hard
Apache Rose gotta rocking peacock
Hottest ass on the goddamn block
Rocking to the beat of the funky ass Meters
She has one of those built in heaters
I kiss your hair, your skin so bare
I'll take you with me girl anywhere
You fare well in stormy weather
I never met a girl that I liked better
Voodoo gurus casting their spells
Cockatoo drag queens shaking their bells
A silver sound escapes the trumpet
Watch your leg, someone might hump it
Chicken strut, your butt let's rock
Getting it on under your frock
Flowing like a flame all through the night
My girl's insane, but it's all right
Yes, my favorite place to be
Is not a land called Honahlee
Mentally or physically
I wanna be in New Orleans
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