The Blacksmiths

Swart smeked smithes, smatered with smoke
Drive me to deth with din of here dintes
Swich nois on nightes ne herd men never
What knavene cry and clatering of knockes
The cammede kongons cryen after «cole, cole!»
Blowen here bellewes that al here brain brestes
«Huf, puf,» saith that oon, «haf, paf,» that other
They spitten and sprawlen and spellen many spelles
They gnawen and gnasshen, they grones togidere
The blacksmiths
The blacksmiths
Blacksmiths
Blacksmiths
Hevy hamres they han that hard been handled
Stark strokes they striken on a steeled stokke
«Lus, bus, las, das,» routen by rowe
Swich doleful a dreem the devil it to drive
The maister longeth a litel and lassheth a lesse
The blacksmiths
The blacksmiths
Blacksmiths
Blacksmiths
May no man for
Bren-wateres
On night han
His rest
May no man for
Bren-wateres
On night han
His rest
May no man for
Bren-wateres
On night han
His rest
May no man for
Bren-wateres
On night han
His rest
May no man for
Bren-wateres
On night han
His rest