Give Me Louisiana is the state song of Louisiana. It was written by Doralice Fontane, and the lyrics were composed by John Croom.
Lyrics:
Give me Louisiana,
The state where I was born
The state of snowy cotton,
The best I've ever known;
A state of sweet magnolias,
And Creole melodies
Oh give me Louisiana,
The state where I was born
Oh what sweet old memories
The mossy old oaks bring
It brings us the story of our Evangeline
A state of old tradition,
of old plantation days
Makes good old Louisiana
The sweetest of all states.
Give me Louisiana,
A state prepared to share
That good old southern custom,
Hospitality so rare;
A state of fruit and flowers,
Of sunshine and spring showers
Oh give me Louisiana,
The state where I was born
Its woodlands, Its marshes
Where humble trappers live
Its rivers, Its valleys,
A place to always give
A state where work is pleasure,
With blessings in full measure
Makes good old Louisiana
The dearest of all states.
Give me Louisiana,
Where love birds always sing
In shady lanes or pastures,
The cowbells softly ring;
The softness of the sunset
Brings peace and blissful rest
Oh give me Louisiana,
The state where I was born
The smell of sweet clover
Which blossoms everywhere
The fresh new mown hay
Where children romp and play
A state of love and laughter,
A state for all here after
Makes good old Louisiana
The grandest of all states.
Famous quotes containing the words give me, give and/or louisiana:
“He could jazz up the map-reading class by having a full-size color photograph of Betty Grable in a bathing suit, with a co- ordinate grid system laid over it. The instructor could point to different parts of her and say, “Give me the co-ordinates.”... The Major could see every unit in the Army using his idea.... Hot dog!”
—Norman Mailer (b. 1923)
“Four or five whippoorwills
Have come down from their native ledge
To the open country edge
To give us a piece of their bills.”
—Robert Frost (1874–1963)
“I saw in Louisiana a live-oak growing,
All alone stood it and the moss hung down from the branches,
Without any companion it grew there uttering joyous leaves of dark
green,
And its look, rude, unbending, lusty, made me think of myself,
But I wonder’d how it could utter joyous leaves standing alone
there without its friend near, for I knew I could not,”
—Walt Whitman (1819–1892)