The Blacksmith
There was a village blacksmith
Working many years ago,
In a village known as Smallwood,
It's a place that you may know.
His christian name was William,
His wife was known as Jane,
Their home was called 'The Bungalow'
Down a narrow country lane.
The blacksmith had three daughters,
He also had a son,
But sadly he took ill and died,
A loss to everyone!
One daughter worked beside him
In the forge so hot and dry.
The others worked in offices,
In the towns that were nearby.
He mended many farm carts,
Their wheels to be made sound:
For they were often damaged
Passing over stony ground.
He shod the farmers's horses
And made their ploughshares straight:
Sometimes he mended tractors
Sometimes a farmyard gate.
He was a local preacher
So on Sundays went to preach,
In the little country chapels
That lay within his reach.
Come Monday he was back at work
At his forge so hot and bright,
Shoeing horses,mending ploughs,
And putting farm carts right.
This went on for many years
Until he'd had enough
So he spent his last remaining years
In the home he loved so much.
Dedicated to WILLIAM BODEN OLLIER (1890-1962)
Displayed with the kind permission of Edmund Finney (The Author)
Copywrite 1st March 1999.
Note: Linked from Home Page Only.
The Family of Charles Ollier - Author & Publisher of London
The Ancestors of Richard Ollyer (Ollier) - Brewer of Holborn London