SMITH’S SONG.
No man greater than a blacksmith,
Honest, sturdy is the blacksmith;
Firm upon his feet he standeth,
Dealing heavy blow on blow.
With quick hand his axe he handeth,
Many works before him grow.
And so, and so,
Blow upon blow,
Like thunder they fall on the anvil, and lo!
He misses the iron by never a blow.
Blacksmiths, like all things in keeping,
Heavy blows, and not much speaking,
Manly speech and diligent work,
Heart for every noble thing.
And so we hear him at his work,
Dealing blows that loudly ring,
And so, and so,
Blow upon blow,
Like thunder they fall on the anvil, and lo!
He misses the iron by never a blow.
The blacksmith is a man of truth,
At home, or in the world, forsooth.
The crooked he makes straight, the bad
He throws away in the dark.
A lover of the law, not sad,
He deals his heavy blows, hark!
And so, and so.
Blow upon blow,
Like thunder they fall on the anvil, and lo!
Ho misses the iron by never a blow.
