Craw-Fish Boil

The leaves were turning red and gold; And frost was in the air. When they rounded up the Acadians, From Miquelon and Saint Pierre. It was a time for groaning; A cry from Cajun lips. When they rounded up those Frenchmen; And loaded them on ships. So they came to "Louisiane;" A strange and far-off land. But thrived mid pines and cypress. A hardy, cheerful band. They learned to build the pirogue, And find odd sorts of meat. For in the swamps of "Louisiane"; The Cajun had to eat. They learned to cook the Gumbo; Which is a special dish; But key to their survival; Was a little Red Craw-fish. The "Mud-bug" some folks call it. But it's cooked with lots of love. It's found in shallow water; Which the South has plenty of. It is a time for dancing; It is a time for fun. When the Cajuns get together; And the the Red Craw-fish are done. You boil them in some water; And throw in lots of spice. Some corn and some potatoes; And some ice tea would be nice. The Cajuns love their Craw-fish Though it's been 200 hundred years. Since they left their home in Canada, And cried those bitter tears. But the Cajun is resourceful; Making use of what he can. He thrived to spite the English; To prove he was the better man.