Gris Gris Satchel

(*Quist/Temple/Brooks/Jurdi) St John’s Eve, gone to see, Marie on Pontchartrain* Twelve thousand black and white standing in the rain Gold stars on my forehead, don’t need no tarot deck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Playing spoons on a box down on St Anne’s street Hoodoo peppers freed a man, charmed the judge’s seat Silver dollar burn a hole, cashed my last paycheck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Bonfire on midsummer’s eve, ashes on my face You might fall in love tonight or you might fall from grace Creole on the bayou paying their respects Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Money on her resting place, X’s on the wall Rainbow snake has shed its skin, mark the sparrow’s fall Free from all my burdens, paid up all my debts Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck Gris gris satchel in my hand, Cross around my neck