| The war was over and the spirit was broken
|
| The hills were smokin' as the men withdrew
|
| We stood on the cliffs
|
| Oh, and watched the ships
|
| Slowly sinking to their rendezvous
|
| They signed a treaty and our homes were taken
|
| Loved ones forsaken
|
| They didn’t give a damn
|
| Try’n' to raise a family
|
| End up the enemy
|
| Over what went down on the plains of Abraham
|
| Acadian driftwood
|
| Gypsy tail wind
|
| They call my home the land of snow
|
| Canadian cold front movin' in
|
| What a way to ride
|
| Oh, what a way to go
|
| Then some returned to the motherland
|
| The high command had them cast away
|
| And some stayed on to finish what they started
|
| They never parted
|
| They’re just built that way
|
| We had kin livin' south of the border
|
| They’re a little older and they’ve been around
|
| They wrote a letter life is a whole lot better
|
| So pull up your stakes, children and come on down
|
| Fifteen under zero when the day became a threat
|
| My clothes were wet and I was drenched to the bone
|
| Been out ice fishing, too much repetition
|
| Make a man wanna leave the only home he’s known
|
| Sailed out of the gulf headin' for Saint Pierre
|
| Nothin' to declare
|
| All we had was gone
|
| Broke down along the coast
|
| But what hurt the most
|
| When the people there said
|
| «You better keep movin' on»
|
| Everlasting summer filled with ill-content
|
| This government had us walkin' in chains
|
| This isn’t my turf
|
| This ain’t my season
|
| Can’t think of one good reason to remain
|
| We worked in the sugar fields up from New Orleans
|
| It was ever green up until the floods
|
| You could call it an omen
|
| Points ya where you’re goin'
|
| Set my compass north
|
| I got winter in my blood
|
| Acadian driftwood
|
| Gypsy tail wind
|
| They call my home the land of snow
|
| Canadian cold front movin' in
|
| What a way to ride
|
| Ah, what a way to go |