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• Artiste: Fred Eaglesmith
• Titre: Summerlea
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Night time's falling on the summerlea and suppers getting cold. Its the second time in as many weeks he hasn't shown. He's probably chasing some old steer across some prairie storm. When she asks him he'll just shrug and say "that's the way things go". But he only gets into town twice a month and he gets out as fast as he can. He don't have a phone so she can't call him up and she never knows where he is. He smells like horses and he chews tobacco and he cusses and he spits. She's been in love a couple of times before, but never quite like this. Next month it'll be those damned old rodeos and fairs. He'll be gone for six weeks straight to God only knows where. And he won't win any money and worst than that, he won't care. When she asks him, he'll just smile he had a real good time out there. But he only gets into town twice a month and he gets out as fast as he can. He don't have a phone so she can't call him up and she never knows where he is. He smells like horses and he chews tobacco and he cusses and he spits. She's been in love a couple of times before, but never quite like this. Well he stops his horse, to get a light and the water pores of his hat. Hes been out in the rain most of the night and ought to be getting back. His been thinking about the colour of her hair and the touch of her hand. And the way she quietly smiles whenever she looks at him. But he only gets into town twice a month and he gets out as fast as he can. He don't have a phone so he can't call her up and he never knows where she is. She smells like flowers and perfume and tobacco and gin. He's been in love a couple of times before, but never quite like this. He's been in love a couple of times before, but never quite like this. Night time's falling on the summerlea and suppers getting cold.