Oh how I would like to live again,
The days in old Lewisburg;
Despite my efforts to express,
I'm left searching for the word.
I hear the old gang singing,
The harmony is fine;
They're always at their very best,
With Auld Sweet Adeline.
We all lived near the brewery,
The beer it was the best;
At the slaughter houses our sausages,
Surpassed all the rest.
We topped it off with sauer-kraut,
Made down on Lewis Street;
Put it all together and,
It really was a treat.
The turkey shoot came once a year,
And Tom was raised up head;
Was picked off by a crack shot,
So now of course he's dead.
From miles around the folks would come,
To Pap Fromandi's zoo,
To see the bears and monkeys,
And feed them peanuts too.
The parishioners of old St. John's would march,
The streets in fervent prayer;
At the Feast of Corpus Christe,
And the echo's ever there.
The old familiar spots I knew,
They really are no more;
But they brought much joy and happiness,
Back in the days of yore.
From Charles Gleason's "Strolling Along Memory Lane," comes this poem of Old Lewisburg, which Gleason notes
was hung inside the old bar room clock at Pap
Fromandi's Monkey House, later known as the Hillside Cafe.