On the edge of the rural community
The village Smithy stands
Manned by the local Blacksmith
Recognised by his sturdy hands
Strengthened each day by the hammer he wields
Shaping steel on the Anvil each day
Working the bellows on the furnace
Then with white hot steel he will flay
With his hammer against the Anvil
To flatten or shape or point
Or maybe to make a hinge –pin
To form a movable joint
On which to hang a five barred gate
To a house or a field maybe
Every day his task is different
He enjoys a life of variety
People come from far and wide
To see him ply the skills of his trade
Preceded by his Ancestors most likely
Going back many a decade
He may be asked to forge a tool
Of a customers design
Maybe make some iron keepsakes
When he ever has spare time
But one of his most important tasks
For his local Equestrian friends
Is to fashion some new horseshoes
Which on his Anvil he bends
After which he’ll become the Farrier
Taking care of a horse that’s thrown a shoe
You’ll see the dedication in his face
As he gains the Horse’s confidance too
With hoof held firm between his legs
As he tries the shoe for size
Then he heats it again in the furnace for fitting
And when placed you’ll see smoke rise
Then adeptly with his hammer
The necessary nails are now in place
Then snipped and filed ands hoof is polished
Once more a smile on the Horseman’s face
Then the Smithy will stroke the horse’s head
And bid the equestrian pair farewell
Wondering what tomorrow may bring
A Blacksmith can never tell