I became fascinated reading an article about southeastern Louisiana, New Orleans, and the Mississippi River in The New Yorker, and . . . 


© 2019 Steven E. Cutts

recorded and mixed in the fall of 2019 by Jim Robeson


Steve, guitar and vocal

Bill Starks, piano and Wurlitzer organ

Fred Travers, dobro


Oh, Louisiana, Louisiana,

you are sliding beneath the water.

The whole Delta’s sinking inch by inch

into the Gulf of Mexico.

The Mississippi built you up,

but in these days of rising seas

just where the bayou meets the ocean

is hard to know.


All that hurricanes tried but failed to do

will be finished by different means.

The silt that settled from up north

is now oozing away east of New Orleans.

We could work for years to save what’s left

but no matter how we’d try

to stop the Delta from dissolving

is just a dream.


Nature makes no promises

that she feels she needs to keep.

You thought the solid land belonged to you,

but it’s lying six-foot deep.
We’ve tampered with the river;

what we sow is what we reap.

Oh, Louisiana.  Oh, Louisiana.


There is water, water everywhere

that the levees cannot contain,

from Birdfoot to Vermillion Bay

to the murky Pontchartrain.

There’s no Moses here to turn the tide,

so the exodus goes on.

There’ll be fish and birds, but the people cannot remain.

 There’ll be fish and birds, but the people cannot remain.

Oh, Louisiana.  Oh, Louisiana.