Tekster: The Essex Green. New Orleans.

Baby pack your things in a pickup truck
We're getting out of this town
There's too many people saying too many things
Too many things to get around

I met a young man down in New Orleans
Where the sky is blue and the trees are green
He told me bout a shack by the riverside
With a welcome mat outside

Where the whiskey flows and moonlight glows
Breezes blow through the cotton groves
And the sand squishes out from between your toes
Think that's where I want to go

And the millions call to me
And the millions call to me

Don't sell your house down in New Orleans
There's a fortune in gold down there
Spend a little time in the winter sun
We have but a second to spare

You say you've had enough of the life you know
Take you to a place where the time moves slow
Where the sand squishes out from between your toes
Think that's where I want to go

And the millions call to me
And the millions call to me