drinking with the poet
and little to show for it
i have been singing songs with the bassists
of all the highschool bands.

sipping on bailey's
i'm perched a pier
thought we were singing about travelling
but my mind is still anchored here.

we have not been as far as we would like to say
but there are some good things coming up for the both of us
some day

skippin rocks
in the city of lakes
here i have found myself an accomplice
to wile away summer days

movin
to new cities
you'll stay here and explore ours
like i never could

got myself something nice
we've got a good thing going
this may be my last summer home
but i'm not worried

i haven't seen either you or the ocean's waves in far too long
so you had better enjoy the view from the ferry when i'm gone.

halifax's harbour always smells so pungent (and that ain't fun)
but you know i almost miss the stench cause i grew up with it all along

buskin' in the summer, always countin' numbers, cookin' breakfast in the nude
or dressed up like a businessman in busted! beat up! leather shoes

lightin' bonfires, guitar strings are wires to tie you to poetry
you don't have to be looking out for for freedom, cause it'll find you, singing

there is gold in dawson's hills and in the dartmouth mansions
summer sun has glinted its last rays upon this town
so make them last