My Nanette - Tommy Shevre, Zachary Richard

    My Papa was a hard working mand,
    Held a plow inside a caloused hand.
    Up before the sun out on theland.
    Try to give us everything he can.

    He sent us off to school when a teacher came,
    He said, ďMy boy try hard, do the best you can.Ē
    But the teacher we could not understand
    Because she only talked ďAméricainĒ.

    Papa couldnít tell us and it didnít make no sense
    When the teacher told us we couldnít talk no French no more.

    Things were changing fast it Louisiane,
    Cajun canít talk English feel ashamed.
    But nowadays, itís getting so you canít
    Tell the Cajuns from Amércains.

    Papa couldnít tell us and it didnít make no sense
    When the teacher told us we couldnít talk no French no more.
    Do you hear me calling, do you understand?
    Once it is gone, it ainít never coming back no more.

    I got me a job just like my Papa planned,
    I wear a suit and dirt never touch my hand,
    But I still see the look in my Papaís eyes,
    The pain and the shame that he just could not hide.

    Papa couldnít tell us and it didnít make no sense
    When the teacher told us we couldnít talk no French no more.
    Do you hear me calling, do you understand?
    Once it is gone, it ainít never coming back no more.
    Hé, mon cher garçon,
    Est-ce que tu me comprends?

    Disk

    Marco Giunco
    Work Basket Music Words