| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _
Uncle Emile's been gone now nearly ten days_
Told his wife he be goin' for the fishing_
But in the waters off St. Pierre and Miquelon Isles_
The fishes come in bottles of gold_
If the Anne-Marie don't break and the Mounties stayin' blind_
He'll be back before the moon is rising_
With a very fine catch all safe in the hold_
Thirty cases of Trinidad light_
For Acadian Saturday night_
| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _
Now Emmeline Comeau works the general store_
My Papa says she's good for the custom's_
She got eyes like fire and hair past her shoulders_
As shiny black as Cumberland coal_
You can see her Sunday morning on the St. Phillipe road_
Her maman close behind like a dragon_
But her mama doesn't know what she does behind the hall_
Away from the music and the light_
On Acadian Saturday night_
_
And it's oh_ don't the fiddles make you roll_
Your heart she will pound like a hammer_
There's a fat lady beating her piano like a drum_
And everybody's higher than a kite_
On Acadian Saturday night_
| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _
e|30--
B|--30
G|----
D|----
A|----
E|----
1
30--------
--30------
----343420
----------
----------
----------
2 3 4
--|---
--|---
--|-02
20|3--
--|---
--|---
1
----010
0113---
-------
-------
-------
-------
2 3
-010-
3---3
-----
-----
-----
-----
4
1|----
-|4545
-|----
-|----
-|----
-|----
1
--------
----4545
5424----
--------
--------
--------
2 3
----|-----
----|-----
5424|--245
----|35---
----|-----
----|-----
4 1
--010
33---
-----
-----
-----
-----
2 3
-010-
3---3
-----
-----
2-3-4
-----
4
-|
-|
-|
-|
-|
-|
Now granpa says it was better in his day_
The Mounties stayed away from the parties_
And they didn't mind a fight when the spirit got high_
You could always throw them out in the snow_
And the rum was better and it came in bigger bottles_
And the revenue cutters were slow_
Still_ the old Anne-Marie has wings on the water_
And there's nothing like Trinidad light_
For Acadian Saturday night_
And it's oh_ don't the fiddles make you roll_
Your heart she will pound like a hammer_
There's a fat lady beating her piano like a drum_
And everybody's higher than a kite_
And it's oh_ don't the fiddles make you roll_
Your heart she will pound like a hammer_
There's a fat lady beating her piano like a drum_
And everybody's higher than a kite_
On Acadian Saturday night_
| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _| _ _ _
e|30--
B|--30
G|----
D|----
A|----
E|----
1
30--------
--30------
----343420
----------
----------
----------
2 3 4
--|---
--|---
--|-02
20|3--
--|---
--|---
1
----010
0113---
-------
-------
-------
-------
2 3
-010-
3---3
-----
-----
-----
-----
4
1|----
-|4545
-|----
-|----
-|----
-|----
1
--------
----4545
5424----
--------
--------
--------
2 3
----|-----
----|-----
5424|--245
----|35---
----|-----
----|-----
4 1 2
--010
33---
-----
-----
-----
-----
3
-010-
3---3
-----
-----
2-3-4
-----
4
-|(3x)
-|
-|
-|
-|
-|
