Summerlea

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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Nighttime's falling on the Summerlea
And supper's getting cold
It's the second time in as many weeks
That he hasn't shown
He's probably chasing some old steer
Across some prairie storm
But 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
And 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
And 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 really good time out there

But he only gets into town twice a month
And he gets out as fast as he can
And 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 times before
But never quite like this

Well, he stops his horse to get a light
And the water pours off his hat
He's been out in the rain most of the night
And he ought to be getting back
He's been thinking about the color 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 out as fast as he can
And 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 times before
But never quite like this
Nighttime's falling on the Summerlea
And supper's getting cold

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