The Lusty Young SmithHome |
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The Lusty Young Smith A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing, When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling, "A match!" quoth the smith, so away they went thither, They stripped to go to't—'twas hot work and hot weather— She kindled a fire, and soon made him blow, Her husband, she said, could scarce raise up his hammer, His strength and his tools were worn out long ago, long ago! If she got her journey-men, could any blame her? "Look here!" quoth our workman, "My tools are not so!" Red-hot grew his iron, as both did desire, And he was too wise not to strike while 'twas so, while 'twas so. Quoth she: "What I get, I get out of the fire, Then prithee, strike home—and redouble the blow!" Six times did his iron, by vigorous heating, The smith then would go. Quoth the dame, full of sorrow:
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