Atchafalaya

Up the million dollar alley north of New Orleans,
The Mississippi don’t come away clean, …she’s poisoned,
And big concrete dams up around the bight,
Are a-holdin back the water, keep the flood pains dry, …for Exxon,
The say the Corps of Engineers tried to do a good thing,
Just tell it to the Cajuns when it floods next spring,
You know the Corps aint God and it can’t turn the flow,
‘Cause the Lord made the Mississippi, long time ago, …and He’s still workin’,

   So the Atchafalaya, she be comin’ on down,
   No way to stop her, aint no high ground,
   Just the swamp and the bayous all the way around,
   And a couple small Cajun towns,

They made a livin’ off the river in the old folks’ time,
But they can’t no more and you ask them why, they say, “Look, Child,
Last year’s wet is this year’s dry,
And the river aint a livin’, it’s a way to die, …maybe tomorrow,
And the Atchafalaya, she won’t rise slow,
“Volunteers to the Levy”…and you better not go!
Just pack up and run with what you can save,
‘Cause the river’ll be a-boilin’ on your Grandpa’s grave,
The river’ll be boilin wit’ snakes this time tomorrow”,

    Lord, the Atchafalaya, she be comin’ on down,
    Aint no way to stop her, there’s no high ground,
    Just the swamp and the bayous all the way around,
    And a couple small Cajun towns,

Well, one of these days and it won’t be long,
When the winter is wet and the spring flood’s strong,
The Mississippi’s gonna go where she never has been,
‘Bout a hundred miles west of New Orleans,
She’ll be a ghost town,

    ‘Cause up the Atchafalaya, she’ll be comin’ on down,
    No way to stop her and there’s no high ground,
    Just the swamp and the bayous all the way around,
    And a couple small Cajun towns.