Go Out and Plough

Fred EaglesmithFred Eaglesmith 

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Fred Eaglesmith

Frederick John Elgersma (born July 9, 1957), known by the stage name Fred Eaglesmith, is a Canadian alternative country singer-songwriter, one of nine children raised by a farming family in rural Southern Ontario. As a teenager Eaglesmith hopped a freight train out to Western Canada, and began writing songs and performing. He is known for writing songs about machines or vehicles, including songs about trains, tractors, trucks, cars, and engines. Rural life, dogs, guns, drinking and farming/ranching are other common themes. Many of his songs are about failing farms and small businesses. Down and out characters dealing with loss of love or livelihood, and quirky rural folk also populate his songs. His songwriting uses many of the techniques of short story writi… more »

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There's a little envelope on the table unopened
He already knows what it says
He's known it for years
Still his hands shook with fear
When he picked it up in town yesterday
It ain't like it seems
You can't run a farm on dreams
Still he thought they might let him carry on
Carry on 'til the dream is even gone

And he'd go out and plough
But the tractor's broken down
The day is almost spent, anyway
He pours himself a drink
Sets on the porch to think
Whatever are the neighbors going to say
Drinking don't take the place
The banker does with an empty face
He tells you 'bout a job up the road
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go

There's a patch on the north side
It's early and it's dry
It's probably the best there is around
But when they sell it off
They won't even bring it up
Hell, who cares anymore about the ground
Some sour face city kid's lawyer puts in the bid
For a run down, tax shelter hobby farm
Who's to blame anybody, anymore

And he'd go out and plough
But the tractor's broken down
The day is almost spent, anyway
He pours himself a drink
Sets on the porch to think
Whatever are the neighbors going to say
Drinking don't take the place
The banker does with an empty face
He tells you 'bout a job up the road
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go

It's a good thing she ain't here
To see the bitter tears
Spill down his coveralls on to the floor
It's a good thing she ain't alive
To see how they've taken his pride
And turned it like a crop beneath the soil
God bless this house the kitchen says
And even when the bills aren't paid
Be thankful for the things that you have
Even just the shirts on your backs

And he'd go out and plough
But the tractor's broken down
The day is almost spent, anyway
He pours himself a drink
Sets on the porch to think
Whatever are the neighbors going to say
Drinking don't take the place
The banker does with an empty face
He tells you 'bout a job up the road
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go
Leave the keys in the mailbox when you go

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