The Forge Poem by Joseph Enright

The Forge

 


The old forge lies empty now
Covered in ivy green
Thee timber doors are bolted tight
No blacksmith can be seen.
No more the anvil's song you hear
When once it clanged so clear
Where people came from far and near
The townland news to hear

The old iron pump outside the door
Cool water pumps no more
Where blacksmith worked iron so hard
And formed gates so grand
Made shoes of iron for horses hooves
While the did patiently stand.

The blacksmiths days are now long gone
The likes we will see no more
For motor cars fill our roads
Goodbye to the days of yore...

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