The rains came, the levee broke, all the cajuns started in to float.
Float to the left, float to the right, float down the river, and clean out of sight.
Float with their pipes, float with their fiddles, float kinda quick when they floating in the middle.
Singing, "Bonjour, Alligator, Float by now, we float back later."

Through the tops of cypress trees, Pierre called to Sweet Louise,
"Cheri, C'est Thibidoux! Soon we be in the Gulf of Mexico."
Thunder rumbled through the air; Louise cried to her Pierre,
"Pass the wine and try to hurry. All this water's made me thirsty."

What's a little rain to a Cajun man? Been knee-deep since I could stand.
Growing up here on the boggy land, what's a little more rain to a Cajun?

Lightning struck, the rain poured down, on they floated southward bound.
Underneath the oil derricks, floodwaters as black as Styx,
Past the piers, past the jetties, driving spray like white confetti,
On the back of a Northern gale, into an angry ocean sail

What's a little rain. . . .

The waves rose higher than the tops of the tall pine trees
Captains on their boats cried, "Nearer my god to thee!"
And people on the shore said a prayer for the poor Cajun ghosts.
Wind died down, the sun came out, the Cajuns gave a mighty shout:
"Hey, Hey, What a lovely day, floating out here where the mermaids play!"

S'il pleur tous les jours, je m'en fou, je m'en fou.
S'il pleur tous les jours, je m'en fou, je m'en fou.

So they floated on down to Yucatan, had a jamboree on the snow white sand.
On a shrimp boat called the Anne Marie, they hitched a ride back to Avery.

What's a little rain. . . .