Walking in Nawlins

*Sung to the tune of "Walking in Memphis," by Marc Cohn.



Put on my wading shoes and I

Boarded the plane.

Touched down in the land of the welfare check

In the middle of a hurricane.



Brother Al $harpton

Won't you look down over me.

Yeah I got a first-class ticket,

But I'm as white as a boy can be.



Then I'm walking in Nawlins.

Walking with the water up to my neck.

Walking in Nawlins.

I've heard they keep their ears dry in Quebec.



Saw the ghost of James Carville,

Which was weird, cuz he ain't dead.

He was singing praise to a gent named Willie.

He always was a pudding head.

Now the cops arrested Louis Armstrong

While he blew a trump of doom,

And Dorothy Lamour wore a skin-tight sarong

Like she was bound for the jungle room.



So I was swimming in Nawlins.

I was treading water trying to stay afloat.

Backstroking in Nawlins.

Wish the Lord would send a motorboat.


They've got looters in the grocery;

Po-leece sirens in the air.

And Sean Penn preens in a submarine

No, he won't mess up his hair.

But y'all ain't got a prayer in Nawlins.


Now Blanco cusses Duhbya,

Hands out some shuck and jive;

And Nagin sits at home watching Oprah

Sipping Colt Forty-five.

Je$$e Jack$on paddled past me,

And he noticed my skin was white.

He said: "There goes a racist's child,"

So I called Davy Duke on him tonight.


I was drowning in Nawlins.

Why didn't Bush come and rescue me?

Guess he was out busting levees.

He seems so much nicer on T.V.


Put on my water wings and I

Boarded the plane.

Touched down in the land of racist storms

Where I became a weather vane.

I coulda solved it all in a blink or two

If I only had Obama's brain.