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Amadie
Amadie
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Voici une histoire
D'un homme cajun
Amadie Adouin
Etat son nom
Avec sa guitare
Et avec sa voix
Amadie Adouin
Etait le roi
In a town seperated by railroad tracks
When one side's white the other side must be black
La sueur brulait
Dans ses yeux
Les blancs ont crie
N' arrete pas
Quand Amadie pouvait
plus jouer
Il demandait a Celine
Son mouchoir
Black were the tears Amadie Adouin cried
Tears a white handkerchief just could not hide
Les bois d'Arcadia
Ils sont morts
Au fond de la terre
Amadie s'endort
Mais si vous voulez
Ecouter sa voix
Demande aux Ricains
De la chercher d'en bas
They ran right over Amede's vocal cords
Good old boys in a good ol' Model T Ford
Amede took a walk by the railroad track
To the other side and he won't be coming back
They ran right over Amede's vocal cords
Those good old boys in a good old Model T Ford
Amede took a walk by the railroad track
To the other side and he won't be coming back
Here is the story
Of a Cajun man
Amede Ardoin
Was his name
With his guitar
And his voice
Amede Ardoin
Was the king
In a town seperated by railroad tracks
When one side's white the other side must be black
The sweat burnt
In his eyes
The whites shouted
Don't stop
When Amede couldn't
Play anymore
He asked to Celine
His handkerchief
Black were the tears Amede Ardoin cried
Tears a white handkerchief just could not hide
The forest of Arcadia
Is dead
Deep under the ground
Amede falls asleep
But if you want to listen
To his voice
Ask the Yanks
To look for it from the bottom
They ran right over Amede's vocal cords
Good old boys in a good ol' Model T Ford
Amede took a walk by the railroad track
To the other side and he won't be coming back
They ran right over Amede's vocal cords
Those good old boys in a good old Model T Ford
Amede took a walk by the railroad track
To the other side and he won't be coming back
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