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Source: July 1952 Volume 7 Number 3, Page 69
A song to the little roads
Mary G. Croasdale
Page 69
As soon as they find our bridges
They take them all away
So here is a song to the little roads
As long as they let them stay.
Oh here is a song to the little roads
That wander the county through
With ferns on the banks and hedgerows
And chicory's shining blue.
The big road may go like a nightmare
Like a part of a horrid dream;
I can remember Kimberton,
And London Grove and Cream.
There is one little road that is hard to find
Where the royal fern grows high
There is gentian there for a little while
As blue as the summer sky.
The buntings glance and the yellow birds,
Sometimes the whippoorwill;
I like to think of Nantmeal
And the roads near Bacton Hill.
When wars nay come and you're frightened
You find it hard to sleep
Always remember the little roads
With the shadows cool and deep,
Think of the bends and turnings
On the way to Jameses Mill;
I can remember Warwick
And one way to Harmonyville.
They are part of our county's story
These little quiet ways,
They are part of the Nation's glory
We love them and give them praise,
Go slowly and you will find them
With only a little search;
In the distance the spire at Oxford
The views near Fairview Church.
We are burdened with fear and trouble
We carry heavy loads
But there still is peace in the valleys,
The farms and the little roads.
Mary G. Croasdale
(Mrs. John P. Croasdale)
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