The Whore Of New Orleans - Masters Of Reality

The driving rain hit five o’clock in the morning

The streets were clear the storm

Came in without warning

She’s on a ship of amber on the black water

She’s coming home she’s going to get

What she’s after now

Swing down low

Swing down low

Light a candle for the whore of New Orleans

Rising high to touch the souls long departed

On resolution now the end’s finally started

We’d better hurry don’t impale me with worry now

Oh, oh

I dreamt I met the Pharisees

In a wooden house on broken beams

On a mudslide down a hill

Holding on to broken will

They tied my Lord to the whipping post

Please don’t take him away

They tied my Lord to the whipping post

Please don’t take him away

Don’t take him away, don’t take him away

Don’t take him away, don’t take him away

He got no place to go, he got no place to go

He got no place to go, he got no place to go

I lost my home in the wicked flood

Please don’t send me away

I lost my home in the wicked flood

Please don’t send me away

Don’t send me away, don’t send me away

Don’t send me away, don’t send me away

I’ve got no place to go, I’ve got no place to go

I’ve got no place to go, he got no place to go

I’ve got no place to go, I’ve got no place to go

I’ve got no place to go, he got no place to go

No no