Americans Letra

my grandfather spoke no english he could but he would not and the only french i understood were the few words i was taught by my grandfather when he explained about us and them and how you must never trust the americans see my grandfather came from ville platte north of lafayette his family were all share croppers a fact he would not forget as if 200 years of history didn't count for a damn thing america was his country but he was not an american my grandfather had eight children and my dad he was one and all were sent to catholic school and taught English by the nuns who'd beat you with a cane if you spoke a word of French that's how my dad and all his brothers became Americans of my dad i've not much to say he's a hard man and a bigot when his truck broke down the other day he said "boy, we'll have to nigger rig it" but my grandfather worked with creoles cutting sugar cain out in the fields reaping gold for Americans he took me to a funeral once of a French speaking african i saw a coffin on the kitchen table and a piano accordion and my grandfather he explained about us and them how there are them you can trust they are like us they are not American i left town as soon as i could as fast as i was able went to school at l.s.u. took a job bussing tables met a girl from oregon followed her to eugene when she was gone i moved on to check out the seattle scene one job followed another i travelled fourteen states and i found lovers but never one who stayed i think i am no wiser now than i was back when my grandfather gave me his advice never trust Americans