The Logan Turnpike
by Charles W. Cook
The turnpike was a treacherous road
Through Union County land;
The horse-drawn wagon made its bid
To test the skills of man.
Across the Blue Ridge mountain crest
They rode toward Cleveland town;
Some trees were cut to drag behind,
To slow the wagons down.
The mountains farmers hauled their crops
To sell along the way;
They camped beside a gentle stream
For rest at end of day.
About four days to Gainesville’s view,
Where stores stocked vital goods;
A campsite was their dwelling place
Beneath the shady woods.
They bartered with the merchants there,
For sugar, salt and flour;
New shoes were bought for everyone
Before the closing hour.
Strong rope and nails and lantern oil,
New pots and pans for cooking;
The ladies found new hats and coats,
To make them better looking.
Steel horshoes and woodworking tools,
Some turpentine and wire;
Warm union suits and woolen socks,
And matches for a fire.
The little folks got chocolate drops,
And others shiny toys;
Young girls would find some sweet perfume,
And hair oil for the boys.
The journey o’er the mountain ridge
Was such an awesome chore;
The long and bumpy tiring ride,
Could last a week or more.
The Logan Turnpike it was called,
Where mountain breezes blow;
The pioneers endured their task,
Where sparkling waters flow.
Very enjoyable poem and story within it….thanks.