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A Lusty Young Smith A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing,His hammer laid by his forge still aglow,When to him a buxom young damsel came smilingAnd asked if to work at her forge he would go. With a jingle, bang, jingle, bang, jingle, bang, jingle.With a jingle, bang, jingle, bang, jingle, hi, ho! "I will," said the smith, and they went off together,Along to the young damsel's forge they did go.They stripped to go to it, 'twas hot work and hot weather;She kindled a fire and she soon made him blow. Her husband, she said, no good work could afford her;His strength and his tools were worn out long ago.The smith said, "Well, mine are in very good orderAnd now I am ready my skill for to show." Red hot grew his iron, as both did desire,And he was too wise not to strike 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,Grow soft in the forge in a minute or soAnd often was hardened, still beating and beating,But the more it was softened, it hardened more slow. The smith then would go; quoth the dame, full of sorrow,"Oh, what would I give, could my husband do so!Good lad, with your hammer come hither tomorrowBut, pray, can't you use it once more, ere you go?"
A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing,His hammer laid by his forge still aglow,When to him a buxom young damsel came smilingAnd asked if to work at her forge he would go.
With a jingle, bang, jingle, bang, jingle, bang, jingle.With a jingle, bang, jingle, bang, jingle, hi, ho!
"I will," said the smith, and they went off together,Along to the young damsel's forge they did go.They stripped to go to it, 'twas hot work and hot weather;She kindled a fire and she soon made him blow.
Her husband, she said, no good work could afford her;His strength and his tools were worn out long ago.The smith said, "Well, mine are in very good orderAnd now I am ready my skill for to show."
Red hot grew his iron, as both did desire,And he was too wise not to strike 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,Grow soft in the forge in a minute or soAnd often was hardened, still beating and beating,But the more it was softened, it hardened more slow.
The smith then would go; quoth the dame, full of sorrow,"Oh, what would I give, could my husband do so!Good lad, with your hammer come hither tomorrowBut, pray, can't you use it once more, ere you go?"
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