For as much as I was born and raised in a large, metropolitain city (Montreal), I do not think of myself as being 'citified'. I don't feel comfortable or at ease in a large urban centre. Never have, never will. They're alright to visit every now and again, but I don't like the thought of living there. I much prefer a small town or hamlet. I prefer country air to city air, hands down. Ocean air is the absolute best...
I'm not a big fan of urbanization on a large scale, as is evident everywhere you look here in Ottawa and it's surrounding areas. No place is safe from the developers' reach. What used to be verdant farmland only a couple of years ago in Cumberland, Rockland, Kanata and all points of the compass, has now been bulldozed under and has multiple sub-divisions sprouting from it, complete with those shoulder-to-shoulder, cookie-cutter homes.
It's a sad thing, to my mind. So this one particular song by Montgomery Gentry, hit home with me. I can remember living 3 or 4 years on a farm in Quebec's Eastern Townships, during my younger days. At age 10 I was not only driving an old Ford tractor along the side of a country road, I was also swinging a Homelite chain saw out in the bush. We worked the land, cutting fields, fanning, bailing and stacking hay. We felled trees and barked as well as corded the wood.
We fed and milked and herded the cows, slopped the pigs and cleaned their sties. We stoked the fires for the boiler that would render gallons of the purest, sweetest maple syrup you have ever tasted. We learned very early in life, that work was required of you if things were to go as they should. We learned that we all had chores and responsibilities to tend to and developed a healthy work ethic. It was simply how things got done...
Artist: Montgomery Gentry
Song: Daddy Won't Sell the Farm.
Album: Tattoos & Scars
His cows get loose and run right thru the fast food parking lots
And Daddy gets calls from the mini-malls
when they're downwind from his hogs.
When his tractor backs up traffic, the reception ain't too warm.
The city's growing around him, but Daddy won't sell the farm.
You can't roll a rock, up a hill that steep.
You can't pull roots when they run that deep.
He's gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
He worked and slaved in '68, he bought these fields and trees.
He raised his corn and a big red barn and a healthy family.
He learned to love the woodlands, he can't stand to do them harm.
There's concrete all around him, but Daddy won't sell the farm.
You can't roll a rock, up a hill that steep.
You can't pull roots when they run that deep.
He's gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
One day he's gonna leave it all to me
and I'll start my own branch of the family tree.
They'll get the message written on the roof of the barn,
Daddy won't sell the farm.
You can't roll a rock, up a hill that steep.
You can't pull roots when they run that deep.
He's gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
We're gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
Oh you know a country boy can survive...
I'm not a big fan of urbanization on a large scale, as is evident everywhere you look here in Ottawa and it's surrounding areas. No place is safe from the developers' reach. What used to be verdant farmland only a couple of years ago in Cumberland, Rockland, Kanata and all points of the compass, has now been bulldozed under and has multiple sub-divisions sprouting from it, complete with those shoulder-to-shoulder, cookie-cutter homes.
It's a sad thing, to my mind. So this one particular song by Montgomery Gentry, hit home with me. I can remember living 3 or 4 years on a farm in Quebec's Eastern Townships, during my younger days. At age 10 I was not only driving an old Ford tractor along the side of a country road, I was also swinging a Homelite chain saw out in the bush. We worked the land, cutting fields, fanning, bailing and stacking hay. We felled trees and barked as well as corded the wood.
We fed and milked and herded the cows, slopped the pigs and cleaned their sties. We stoked the fires for the boiler that would render gallons of the purest, sweetest maple syrup you have ever tasted. We learned very early in life, that work was required of you if things were to go as they should. We learned that we all had chores and responsibilities to tend to and developed a healthy work ethic. It was simply how things got done...
Artist: Montgomery Gentry
Song: Daddy Won't Sell the Farm.
Album: Tattoos & Scars
His cows get loose and run right thru the fast food parking lots
And Daddy gets calls from the mini-malls
when they're downwind from his hogs.
When his tractor backs up traffic, the reception ain't too warm.
The city's growing around him, but Daddy won't sell the farm.
You can't roll a rock, up a hill that steep.
You can't pull roots when they run that deep.
He's gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
He worked and slaved in '68, he bought these fields and trees.
He raised his corn and a big red barn and a healthy family.
He learned to love the woodlands, he can't stand to do them harm.
There's concrete all around him, but Daddy won't sell the farm.
You can't roll a rock, up a hill that steep.
You can't pull roots when they run that deep.
He's gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
One day he's gonna leave it all to me
and I'll start my own branch of the family tree.
They'll get the message written on the roof of the barn,
Daddy won't sell the farm.
You can't roll a rock, up a hill that steep.
You can't pull roots when they run that deep.
He's gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
We're gonna live and die, in the eye of an urban storm.
Daddy won't sell the farm.
Oh you know a country boy can survive...
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