lirik lagu the village blacksmith - hal holbrook
under a spreading chestnut~tree
the village smithy stands;
the smith, a mighty man is he
with large and sinewy hands;
and the muscles of his brawny arms
are strong as iron bands
his hair is crisp, and black, and long;
his face is like the tan;
his brow is wet with honest sweat
he earns whate’er he can
and looks the whole world in the face
for he owes not any man
week in, week out, from morn till night
you can hear his bellows blow;
you can hear him swing his heavy sledge
with measured beat and slow
like a s~xton ringing the village bell
when the evening sun is low
and children coming home from school
look in at the open door;
they love to see the flaming forge
and hear the bellows roar
and catch the burning sparks that fly
like chaff from a threshing floor
he goes on sunday to the church
and sits among his boys;
he hears the parson pray and preach
he hears his daughter’s voice
singing in the village choir
and it makes his heart rejoice
it sounds to him like her mother’s voice
singing in paradise!
he needs must think of her once more
how in the grave she lies;
and with his hard, rough hand he wipes
a tear out of his eyes
toiling,—rejoicing,—sorrowing
onward through life he goes;
each morning sees some task begin
each evening sees it close;
something attempted, something done
has earned a night’s repose
thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend
for the lesson thou hast taught!
thus at the flaming forge of life
our fortunes must be wrought;
thus on its sounding anvil shaped
each burning deed and thought!
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