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Oh, yeh! Cajun man, do all he can, |
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Gotta make a livin'; he's a Louisiana man. |
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At birth, Mama 'n' Papa called their little boy Ned; |
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Raised him on the banks of the river bed. |
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A houseboat tied to a big, tall tree, |
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A home for my mama and my papa and me. |
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The clock strikes three, Papa jumps to his feet; |
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Already Mama's cookin' Papa somethin' to eat. |
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At half-past, Papa, he's a-ready to go; |
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He jumps in his bureau headed down the bayou. |
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Chorus: |
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He's got a fishin' line strung across a Louisiana river, |
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Gotta catch a big fish for us to eat. |
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He sets his traps in the swamps, catches anything he can; |
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Gotta make a livin'; he's a Louisiana man. |
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Gotta make a livin'; he's a Louisiana man. |
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Oh, yeh! Cajun man, do all he can, |
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Gotta make a livin'; he's a Louisiana man. |
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They call Mama Rita and my daddy Jack; |
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The little baby brother on the floor is Mack. |
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Bryn and Lynn are the family twins, |
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Big brother Ed's on the bayou fishin'. |
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On the river float Papa's great big boat; |
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That's how my papa goes into town |
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Takes ev'ry bit of the night and day |
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To even reach a place where the people stay. |
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(Chorus) |
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I can hardly wait 'til tomorrow comes 'round; |
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That's the day my Papa takes his furs to town. |
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Papa said, "Son, we got lines to run. |
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We come back again, 'cause there's work to be done." |
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(Chorus) |
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Oh, yeh! Cajun man, do all he can, |
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Gotta make a livin'; he's a Louisiana man. |
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Gotta make a livin'; he's a Louisiana man. |
