Fred's Cafe
Down in Western Louisiana
There's a town where the people play
Early every Saturday morning
A little barroom called Fred's Cafe

You gotta get there bright and early
Cause they shut down in the middle of the day
And every time I try to go there,
somethin' seems to get in my way

Someday, Someday,
I'm gonna make it down to Fred's Cafe
Saturday mornin', Mamou, Louisiana
Gonna listen to that bayou swamp band play

In '89 I hit the Louisiana border
But I didn't even make it to the French Quarter
Stopped in a bar in Old Delacroix
Had a little runin with a good ol' boy

I couldn't help wonderin' why he was starin'
He said "Boy, I don't like what you're wearin'
He pulled doubt a pistol, knocked me in the dirt
Tried to shoot Bob Marley off the front of my shirt
I headed back east so I woudn't get hurt

In '92 I headed back to Louisiana
But I only made it to Flora-Bama
Met up with some drinkers
Started partyin' hard
Woke up Saturday morning in an Alabama graveyard

Tried again in '95
But once again I didn;t arrive
Started playin Black Jack with some Voodoo hippie
On a river boat in Biloxi, Mississippi

I won some money; he lost his car
He asked me for a lift to a neighborhood bar
I didn't know that he'd just jumped bail
I did a lot of fast talkin' at the county jail


Copyright 1997 by John Cusatis
The Band:
John Cusatis: Acoustic Rhythm Guitar, Rub board BR> Jeff Houts: Acoustic Lead Guitar
Hawke Morffi: Mandolin
Rob Posey: Harmonica
Debbie Pasek: Bass
Tommy Nolan: Drums

Main Page | Lyrics Index |