Here is another poem by Lillian McFadden, this one concerns an old covered bridge over French Creek. THE OLD COVERED BRIDGE That old covered bridge of wood, Which for many years stood Just at the edge of town Was finally torn down. Within its cooling shade, As a child I had played, Running helter-skelter Beneath its friendly shelter. Weather-beaten and gray, The bridge's shadow lay On the water below in the burning sun's glow. >From one side of the bridge, You could see a far-off ridge, Its towering peak looked high Against an azure sky. As far as the eye could reach, Old French Creek seemed to stretch, It was both wide and deep Where the current seemed to sweep. A clump of trees ran back Away from the railroad track Whose rails shone bright and sleek, As they followed close the creek. The bridge was a mere stone's throw >From the railway depot, Where young folks would congregate Each day, early and late. They met each passenger train, In sunshine or in rain, It was some place to go, To the railroad depot. The gas lamp post at each end Of the bridge, managed to send Forth its beacon of light To those that crossed the bridge at night. The bridge was a rendezvous For tramps and roughnecks too, So it gave me quite a fright To go through the bridge at night. The bridge was spooky and wierd, Every little noise I feared, Each shadow made me jump, And my heart began to thump. I can laugh at these things now And I often wonder how I could have ever been So silly when I was ten. Through all kinds of weather The old bridge held together Withstanding wind and rain And ice jams again and again. The old bridge, grim and dark, Was truly an old landmark; It served its purpose well For rather a lengthy spell. The new bridge painted red With no cover overhead Will not be the same to me As the old bridge used to be. transcribed by Linda Kellbach (researching McFadden, Balliet, Swartz and Rogers in Crawford County, PA)