I was out on the town on half torn up roads,
showing the wear of high traffic loads,
some have been dug down to the dirt;
the longer you drive, with danger you flirt.
Yep! It's summer in Maine, a construction zone,
where ever you go you don't go alone.
There's a man with a stop sign on this end up here,
he'll let you know when the traffic is clear.
The dust is a-flying, and the compactor rolls,
and on some of them roads, they collect tolls.
Oh! It's summer in Maine, you can tell that on sight,
they're tearing up roads and digging ditches at night.
Right down by city hall there's such a mess,
but by now you couldn't expect anything less;
but the weather is changing it's starting to cool,
and, you know, digging in winter makes you look like a fool.
Yessa! right from the old geezers head.