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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.

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