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