When I was young and needed my time alone, jump in the pirogue, pole down the Bayou.
Bogafalaya River was dark and cold, seven years old, I couldn't find my way home.
Old times, good times. Old times, good times.

When I was twelve, I learned how to play the guitar, got myself a job in a Jax beer bar.
Got myself together, went to New Orleans, found myself working for rice and beans.
Old times, good times. Old times, good times.

New York City was so d___ed cold, I had to get out of that town before I got old.
California, rock and roll dream, got too high and we blew our whole scene,
but we had a good time.
Old times, good times. Old times, good times...

See also:
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