The Old Demerara Harbour Bridge we did cross,

 That’s the one that may now gather moss.

 Behind the scene, came the Big Boss,

 To ensure, Guyana suffered no loss.

 The old one all dearly love,

 Majestically, it floated above.

 Time flew like a dove,

Calling to take up the glove.

Being 47 plus, it grew old,

It’s usage, worn and cold.

The bridge stood, firm and bold,

Such service, weighed in gold.

Be it high or low tide,

All who traversed, enjoyed the ride.

For ten years, she meant to abide,

No more, her nuts and bolts did confide.

The old bridge did fill a gap,

It wore a proud cap.

Reaching its last lap,

A new bridge will now be on the map.

Her priceless pontoons stood the test,

Another place, they will surely rest.

There was a period, she was Guyana’s best,

Never to be forgotten, especially those from the West.

Day and night, she served Demerara well,

On a sentimental past, no one should dwell.

Tear drops fall, eyes will swell,

So sad, the moment is here to bid farewell.

Sincerely,

Jai Lall