Seventh Town Serenades Sharbot Lake

Kelli McRobert | Aug 14, 2025

On Monday night (August 11), the sleepy village of Sharbot Lake stirred with music and memory as Seven Town rolled in for a stop on their Cottage Country Tour. The venue was cozy—just sixty or so gathered in a private, intimate setting that felt more like a living room than a concert hall. But that was the magic. No flashing lights, no booming speakers—just the pulse of music, laughter, and stories shared under the soft glow of stage lamps.

Seven Town, a four-piece Celtic folk band from Prince Edward County, is known for their thoughtful arrangements and rich harmonies. With roots in Irish, Scottish, and Canadian traditions, their sound is a blend of fiddle, guitar, bass, and Irish whistles, all wrapped in vocals that feel like old friends telling tales. Martin Smit led the evening with warmth and wit, painting scenes of childhood camping trips: crackling fires, marshmallow-sticky fingers, and songs drifting into the night air. His voice carried the comfort of lakeside evenings, where stories and songs mingled with the hush of the still (hot) outside air.

The band’s setlist danced between upbeat jigs and tender ballads, with a nod to the Scottish bard himself—Robbie Burns. = melodies filled the room, strange and whimsical lyrics twisting through the air. Each song was a tale: of love found and lost, of cheeky escapades and wistful longing. The crowd leaned in, some mouthing the words, others letting the music carry them away.

One of the evening’s most stirring moments came with “My Love’s in Germany,” a haunting lament written by Scottish poet Hector MacNeill in 1794. The song tells the story of a woman mourning her lover, a soldier lost to war. Seventh Town’s rendition was evocative, the melody drifting through the room like a memory half-remembered. It was a quiet pause in the evening—a moment of reflection and thoughts of those we had lost.

Later, the room came alive with “Red-Winged Blackbird,” a beloved David Francey song that had everyone singing along. The chorus swelled with voices—some strong, some shy—but all united in the joy of shared music. It was one of those rare moments when the line between performer and audience disappeared, and the room became one big, humming chorus. You could feel the rhythm pulse through the floorboards, especially from one gentleman who thumped along with such gusto it felt like the beat was imprinted into the scarred wooden floor.

Megan Balogh shared that she hadn’t played in Sharbot Lake since she was fourteen, when she performed as a member of the Blue Skies Fiddle Orchestra. Her bow danced across the strings with joyful reverence, and the audience responded in kind.
Then came “Blue Canoe,” a lullaby that drifted in like mist over the lake. The energy softened. It was as if the music had rowed everyone out to the middle of the water, where stars blinked overhead and time slowed. Eyes closed, and suddenly you were somewhere else—on a dock, wrapped in a blanket, listening to the gentle hum of night.

The evening was hosted in collaboration with the North Frontenac Little Theatre Group, a local institution that’s been producing plays and musical theatre in Sharbot Lake for over 45 years. Their recent productions, including Joseph and the Amazing Technicolor Dreamcoat, have brought together families, artists, and audiences in celebration of community and creativity. Their partnership with Seven Town felt like a natural extension of their mission: to bring stories to life, whether through dialogue or melody.

When Martin prompted the crowd to sing along again, voices rose quietly at first, then stronger. It wasn’t polished, but it was perfect. The kind of moment you don’t get in big venues.
Seven Town didn’t just play music—they rekindled the spirit of a small coastal kitchen party, where laughter, stories, and song spilled late into the night. They turned a quiet Monday evening into a tapestry of sound and story, stitched with laughter, longing, and the unmistakable charm of cottage country. As the last notes faded and the crowd lingered, reluctant to break the spell, it was clear: this wasn’t just a concert- it was a homecoming of sorts.
And somewhere, out on a lake, a blue canoe rocked gently in the moonlight, carrying the echoes of a night well spent.
Thanks for coming to Sharbot Lake!