Louise

They all said Louise was not half bad

It was written on the walls and window shades

And how she'd act the little girl

A deceiver, don't believe her, that's her trade

Sometimes a bottle of perfume

Flowers and maybe some lace

Men brought Louise ten cent trinkets

The intentions were easily traced

And everybody knew at times she cried

Ah, but women like Louise, well they get by

And everybody thought it kind of sad

When they found Louise in her room

They'd always put her down below their kind

Still, some cried when she died this afternoon

Louise rode home on the mail train

"Somewhere to the south," I heard them say

Too bad it ended so ugly

Too bad she had to go this way

Ah, but the wind is blowing cold tonight

Good night, Louise, good night