It was under the old girded bridge
Past the grapevines and honeysuckle ridge
Happiness waiting for us
No laying in bed gathering dust
Laying back underneath its wings
The bridges layers of rods, our swings
We raced opposite each other
Crossing the creek from one another
Voices were never quiet, we were loud
No one could hear us we were the crowd
I loved that big old bridge
The one down the road by
honey suckle ridge
I’m swinging below it, today in my mind
It eases my painful days, I find
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