Cross That Bridge
The creek runs swift and wide with melt from that last snow,
Gotta get across somehow, there's just one way to go.
This two-lane narrow bridge ain't got no place for me.
If a semi comes along, guess I'll just be history.
Oh, the old Iron bridge on Indian Creek ain't got no place to hide,
An' tryin' to get accross on foot is damn near suicide.
Yeah, it's damn near suicide, oh Lord, it's damn near suicide.
Yeah, tryin to get across on foot, is damn near suicide.
This ol' bridge was built way back in horse an' buggy days.
When folks would go much slower, haulin' veg'tables an' hay.
It may be twelve feet wide, or fourteen at the most.
If a big-rig wants t' cross right now, I guess I'll just be toast.
There's no way to avoid it, there ain't no way around.
Gotta grit my teeth an' set my jaw, get back on solid ground.
The creek is much to shallow, the bridge is way too high.
Gotta choose between two broken legs, an' a good chance that I'll die.
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Posted: Mar 2010
About this poem:No car at the moment, so I've been getting around on foot and by hitchhiking. This rural area makes no provisions for pedestrians. :D