Cabbagetown Reunion Festival: A Yearly Homecoming

Lyrics

[Intro]
October air, cool on the bricks.
Carroll Street wakes up slow.
Another year, you've come back to this.

[Verse 1]
The tents go up like canvas flowers.
White peaks lining the asphalt river.
Someone's tuning a fiddle, counting the hours.
The shotgun shacks watch, they always deliver
the same quiet gaze they had in nineteen-oh-one.
And here you are, a great-grandson, a daughter's son.

[Chorus]
This is the homecoming, the pull of the thread.
From the mill to the loft, for the living and dead.
They're selling boiled peanuts and paintings in blue.
It’s the Cabbagetown Reunion, calling for you.
Calling you back to these six blocks of town.

[Verse 2]
A man from the Lofts, with a dog and a coffee,
stands next to a woman who holds up a photo.
Faded and creased, she points to a porch, softly,
'That was my grandmother's... right there, you know?'
The smell of grilled corn hangs in the air.
A story for a story, a seat on the stair.

[Chorus]
This is the homecoming, the pull of the thread.
From the mill to the loft, for the living and dead.
They're selling boiled peanuts and paintings in blue.
It’s the Cabbagetown Reunion, calling for you.
Calling you back to these six blocks of town.

[Bridge]
The looms are all silent behind that brick wall.
The tornado is a memory, the fire is ash.
But you hear the echo in the festival's call.
A train rumbles past in a long, lonesome dash.
And for one weekend, the past isn't past at all.
It’s right here, sharing a plate, standing tall.

[Outro]
The sun is setting behind the mill stack.
The string lights are glowing, you can't turn back now.
See you next year.
Yeah, we'll see you next year.
Welcome home.