The Blacksmith's Christmas Gift

Twas the night before deadline
And all through the shop
I could hear clinkers tinkling...
Another weld that's a flop.
Undaunted, I clean out
my firepot with care
In hopes that a forge-welded
heart would appear.
Dead cans of Miller
are ringing the floor
Darn it! Too late
to get back to the store.
My Carhartts' on fire,
My white cap's turned to black
I couldn't be happier
Bang, bang, tap, tap, tap.
Just six more to make
I can't go to bed
The sulphury smoke's
playing tricks with my head.
Behind my left shoulder
I hear a strange thud:
My four inch Bosch grinder
Just fell in the slack tub!
Dawn is approaching
Not a moment to waste!
The family is coming
I must wash my face.
Beeswax is applied
to the iron with care
It sticks to my fingers
and gets in my nose hair.
I get out of the shower
And dry off in time
to see Little Jonny awake,
His five-year-old eyes sure do shine.
The family arrives
Presents are flowing,
I'm tired, but sit there
Contentedly knowing
That for five bucks in coal
and a dollar in steel,
Everyone got a handmade gift
We all know how that feels.

Mike Hricziscse December 23, 2001


Copyright © 2001

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