The year was twenty hundred and nine
(Oh I wish I was in
Sherbrooke now)
When a letter of mark came from Grandma
To take the crummiest road I'd ever seen
God damn them all, I was told
We'd cruise the road with alacrity, bold
We'd blow no tires
Shed no tears
Now I've a broken car in a Halifax garage
The last time I'll drive Highway 7