A lusty young smith at his vice stood a-filing
His hammer laid by but his forge still aglow
When to him a buxom young damsel came smiling
And asked if to work in her forge he would go Rum, rum, rum. Rum, rum, rum
In and out. In and out. 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
They 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 order
And I am now 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 Said she, «What I get I get out of the fire
So prithee, strike home and redouble the blow.»
Six times did his iron, by vigorous heating
Grow soft in her forge in a minute or so But as often was hardened, still beating and beating
But the more it was softened, it hardened more slow
When the smith rose to go, quoth the dame full of sorrow:
«Oh, what would I give could my husband do so Good lad with your hammer come hither tomorrow
But pray could you use it once more ere you go!»