Classic Poem

Black-smocked smiths, smattered with smoke,
Drive me to death with din of their dints!
Such noise at night nor heard men never:
What knavish cry, and clattering of knocks!
The crooked cowards cry out "Col, col!"
And blow their bellows till all their brains burst.
"Huff, puff!" says that one, "Hoff, poff!" the other.
They're spitting and sprawling and spelling many spells,
They're gnawing and knocking and groaning together,
And holding hot things with their hard hammers.
Of a bull's hide are their big leather aprons,
Their calves are guarded against fiery sparks.
Heavy hammers they have that are handled hard,
Sharp strokes they strike on an anvil of steel.
"Bang, bang! Lash, dash!" go their answering crashes:
So doleful a dream let the devil dispel!
The boss takes a big piece of iron and binds it
To a tiny one, bangs it, and twangs out a treble.
"Tick, tock! Hick hock! Ticket, tockit! Tick Tock!
Bang, bang! Lash dash!"--such a life they lead!
May Christ give all horse-shoers plenty of sorrow;
For these water-sizzlers, no man at night has his rest!