We’re riding on a burial at sea

Tourists down on Bourbon Street

Getting’ sick on beer

Listenin’ to the music

While the music disappears

I think it’s going to be a grey day 

Slowly drinks me down

High water

Inviting me to drown

And as I wake from last nights bottle

I’ll be on my way again

New Orleans, grey days

The Mississippi stops in front of me

King Oliver in sweepin’ bars

Buddy Bolden’s lost his way

You tell Mister Lomax

Jelly won’t be in today

I think it’s going to be a grey day