Well, I wish I was in New Orleans, I can see it in my dreams
Arm in arm down Burgundy, a bottle and my friends and me
Hoist up a few tall cool ones, play some pool and listen
To that tenor saxophone calling me home

And I can hear the band begin when The Saints go marching in
By the whiskers on my chin, New Orleans I'll be there
I'll drink you under the table, be red nose, go for walks
The old haunts what I wants is red beans and rice

And wear the dress I like so well, meet me at the old saloon
Make sure there's a Dixie Moon, New Orleans I'll be there
And deal the cards, roll the dice, if it ain't that ole Chuck E. Weiss
And Clayborn avenue me and you, Sam Jones and all
Oh, when the saints, go marching in,
Yes when the saints go marching in.
Oh Lord I want to be in that ever lovin' number
When the saints go marching in.

Oh, when the saints, go marching in,
Yes when the saints go marching in.
Oh Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.

Yes when the saints, go marching in,
Yes when the saints go marching in.
Oh Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.

Oh yes, I had a dear old mother,
And if you should see her before I do,
Won't you tell her that you saw [bad word] 
I was [bad word] #39; straight on through

Yes when the saints, go marching in,
Yes when the saints go marching in.
Oh Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.

Oh, when the saints, go marching in,
Yes when the saints go marching in.
Oh Lord I want to be in that number
When the saints go marching in.