They all said Louise was not half-bad
It was written on the walls and window shades
And sometimes she’d act like a little girl
A deceiver, don’t believe her, that’s her trade
And sometimes a bottle of perfume
Candy or, or maybe some lace
Men bought Louise ten cent trinkets
But their intentions were easily traced
And everybody knew at times she cried
Ah, but women like Louise, they get by
And everybody thought it kind of sad
When they found Louise in a room
They’d always put her down below their kind
Still, some cried when she died this afternoon
Now Louise, she rode home on a mail train
Somewhere to the South, I heard them say
Too bad it ended so ugly
Too bad, too bad she had to go this way
Ah, but the wind, it’s blowin’ cold tonight
So goodnight, Louise, goodnight
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