The One-Eyed Guardian of the Covered Bridge

Keeps watch by day and by night;

Alert, he’s perched atop the ridge,

A jolly sort of sprite.

The bridge is old, none go across

Its glory days are past;

Few see the knight, to their great loss

They hurry by too fast.

Tedium does not plague the soul

Of our solitary deer,

For close at hand is a fishing pole

And a frosty mug of beer.

I do not know from whence he came

Or whither he may go,

Or why he thought, in Heaven’s name,

To watch here in the snow.

But he remains, though cold his post

In Mother Nature’s fridge;

So join me in a heartfelt toast:

The Guardian of the Bridge!