[ Featuring Josh Day ]
His old man was a scoundrel
But his mother she didn't care
They looked well after themselves
But acted as if he wasn't there
Brown whiskey and irish blood
Paper white skin
He had enough
He could hear the birds of summer calling
He could see her down in the river
She's treading water
He prayed the flood would come and carry him
Carry him with her
He could hear the birds of summer calling
Calling him away
Hard winter down in the holler
Ice on the windows
Cupboards were bare
He could hear the struggle above him
The heavier truth
Too much to bear
Knew well he had to keep still
Better not cry
Better not tell
He could hear the birds of summer calling
He could see her down in the river
She's treading water
He prayed the flood would come and carry him
Carry him with her
He could hear the birds of summer calling
Calling him away
Set out up the road
But the creek was too high
Couldn't get home
Found shelter in an old mill shack
Stayed for the night
There was no going back