Poem by a Park Ranger "Benjamin H. Britt c.1940.

There is a mountain in Pownal town,

It has a story of no small renown,

How old it is I dare not say,

It's Kissed by the sun and the wind each day...

And from its top, the Indian as he danced

Watched the White man's slow advance,

The sailors of old, as they came each day,

Looked at its top as they entered the bay.

And settlers so few, with righteous hope,

Worshipped their God at the top of its slope...

But a feeling of peace over its side does lay

As people come to enjoy each day.

The government here a park has wrought,

On this beautiful and historic spot....

And When the Question arises what to do,

Bradbury Mountain is the place for you...

Old Bradbury will seem to nod its head and say,

You are welcome my friend, come again some day.""

" A story I'd tell you in this 'Rambling Rhyme',

of the things that happened in olden time ,

Part of it history,perhaps part fancy too,

Also I'd tell of sight that's fair to view...

And Young Bradbury, so the story told,

Lost his life on (a) Summit bold...

And on the trail that by it wound,

The Cotton Family built a cattle pound...

Close by this pound you can still see,

Where the stage coach tavern used to be.....

This is the story as it was told to me

I write it down so all may see."

Excerpts Taken From Rambling Rhyme by a Park Ranger "Benjamin H. Britt c.1940.