Weekend in the Summer – 3:01 – In Canada the cottage is king. Houses change, marriage-partners change, fortunes get won or lost – but “the cottage” carries on. Sometimes the names change (the cabin, the camp) but the institution is quintessentially Canadian, and central to our identity. (My Dad has been working on our family cottage every summer day since 1963.)
I live near the Hwy 400. I see the long lines of stalled traffic on Friday evenings, and sometimes I wonder about it, but it’s not going to change. That’s us.
Weekend in the Summer G ©2006 Dave Hadfield
I’m leavin’ from the city, I’m drivin’ in my car.
The kids are in the back seat, sayin, “Is it far?”
A weekend in the summer, got to get away,
Way up north there’s a lake that calls my name.
The traffic’s really heavy, I’m down to second gear.
(A city full of people saying, “Get me outta here.”)
Ahead there is a cabin, a cooler full of beer,
Way up north where the water runs so clear.
It’s a wonder, I make it this far.
I make money all week but instead
I wish I was north, with a summer ahead.
I pull up to the cabin, park under the trees.
Carry stuff inside – loaded to my knees.
Then my wife discovers, a kitchen full of bees.
I don’t mind the stings – I’m where wanna be.
I wake up in the morning; I feel the summer rain,
Here inside the bedroom — it’s leaking once again.
I guess I’ll fix it later; I take an even strain.
Where I am is where I feel no pain.
An evening in the summer, and someone lit a fire
People comin’ over — spirits getting’ higher
The kids are in the bushes, their parents near the flame
Days and nights like this are why I came.
The weekend’s nearly over, I’m working on my tan,
Fixin’ up my dock – feelin’ like a man.
Tomorrow in the city: busy to the core,
But in five days (maybe less), I’m back once more.