The
Village Blacksmith
Me Dad's the village blacksmith,
And he's worked here forty years,
Learned his trade from his father,
He's well respected by his peers.
The hammer and the anvil,
They are the tools of the trade,
There's no implement for farming,
That he can't repair or make.
He's shod the heavy horses,
For the farmers all around,
The hunters for the gentry,
And the squire who owns the land.
He depends on them for a living,
But he's no one else's man,
He's proud and independent,
And you know just where he stands.
The hammer and the anvil,
They are the tools of the trade,
There's no implement for farming,
That he can't repair or make.
When the Shires worked the farms,
Pulled the harrow and the plough,
There was plenty of work for the blacksmith,
But it's not the same now.
I want to follow me father,
But now the tractor pulls the plough,
I'll learn new skills like welding,
And follow him some how.
The hammer and the anvil,
They are the tools of the trade,
There's no implement for farming,
That he can't repair or make.
Copyright Nick Allmark 2005
Inspired
by another Shropshire lad, Alf Strange who wrote about his
father and his own time as a Village Blacksmith.