Lyrics

My old man called me in last night
To tell me he had lost the fight
And the only way to make it right
Was to close our old fair down
He said, “I’m really sorry, son
I can pay you for the work you’ve done
But I can’t keep you hanging on
’Til the summer rolls around”
For a hundred years, my family’s worked these grounds
The county shows, the village greens, and the market towns
But now it’s over
I wonder if it’s over

All locked down in the winter yards
The traveling life will leave the scars
On the gallopers and the bumper cars
Shining in the rain
And as we packed the gear away
I promised him I’d be back one day
For one last ride I’d gladly pay
To work these loads again
For I don’t believe my way of life has passed
With the smell of dust and diesel and the new-mown grass
The tilt, the flash, the buildup, the pulling down
I miss the moving days with the marking out the ground
Now it’s over
They tell me it's over

So I’ll head down to my brother’s farm
Where the winter work will keep me warm
Turn my collar to the northern storms
And I’ll shelter ‘til the Spring
But there’s one thing every showman knows
People still need a place to go
For a film, a fair, a dance, a dance, a show
Where they can shout and sing
Then I’ll drag my weary father to his feet
I’ll say, “Look, the summer’s here and there are people in the street
Oh, this locked-down winter yard is no place to hide”
Step right up
Walk this way
Everyone’s a winner
On that sweet day
We welcome back the ride
Let’s welcome back the ride
Walk this way, folks