THE BLACKSMITH.
A blacksmith, you'll own, is so clever,
And great in the world is his place;
And the reason I've guess'd, why for ever
A blacksmith's deserving of grace.
Great lawyers who plead and who preach,
While many good causes they mar,
May yield to the blacksmith to teach,
For he labours still more at the bar!
When great men do wrong in the State,
The Commons try hard at their polls;
While the blacksmith, as certain as fate,
Could have 'em haul'd over the coals.
And if rogues put their name to a draft,
The law for their hanging will teaze;
But blacksmiths are free from all craft,
And may forge just as much as they please.
The vices of trade he holds cheap,
And laughs at the world as it rails,
For, spite of the pother they keep,
They can't make a smith eat his nails!
And if, to his praise be it spoke,
To raise him still higher and higher;
You may say, and without any joke,
All he gets is got out of the fire!
Then let blacksmiths be toasted round,
For well it may always be said,
When a fortune by blacksmiths is found,
They must hit the right nail o' the head.
No irony now I'm about,
To his metal you'll find him still true,
Since I've hammer'd his history out,
I hope 'twill be temper'd by you.
"MY FATHER DID SO BEFORE ME."[69]
When I was a chicken I went to school,
My master would call me an obstinate fool,
For I ruled the roast, and I roasted all rule,
And he wonder'd how ever he bore me.
His tables I blotted, his windows I broke,
I fired his wig, and I laughed at the smoke,
And always replied if he row'd at the joke,
Why—my father did so before me.
I met a young girl, and I pray'd to the miss,
I fell on my knee, and I ask'd for a kiss,
She twice said no, but she once said yes,
And in marriage declared she'd restore me.
We loved and we quarrell'd, like April our strife,
I guzzled my stoup, and I buried my wife;
But the thing that consoled me at this time of life
Was—my father did so before me.
Then now I'm resolv'd at all sorrows to blink—
Since winking's the tippy I'll tip 'em the wink,
I'll never get drunk when I cannot get drink,
Nor ever let misery bore me.
I sneer at the Fates, and I laugh at their spite,
I sit down contented to sit up all night,
And when my time comes, from the world take my flight,
For—my father did so before me.