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I Forge Iron

Night before Xmas

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TWAS THE NIGHT BEFORE CHRISTMAS -Blacksmith Style by irnsrgn

Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse.
The stockings were hung by there tops with care,
the tree was decorated and on top the Angel was there.
The small children were nestled all snug in their beds,
while visions of presents danced in their heads.
And me eating cinnamon rolls cut up with a knife.
Had just sat down to watch It's a Wonderful Life.

When out in the back there arose such a clatter,
I sprang from my chair to see what was the matter.
Away to the window I flew like a flash,
tore open the shutter, and threw up the sash.

From the window of Papa's shop the forge did glow,
giving the impression of gold on the fresh snow.
The ring of the anvil was so clear to my ear,
Papa was finishing Christmas presents, for this year.

With his trusty hammer and tongs held so sure,
he was forging happily and so secure.
With measured blows, so lively and quick,
he surely thought of himself as St. Nick.

"Now Anvil! Now Vise!
Now, Drill and File!
On, Hammer! On, Tongs!
On, Chisel and Punch!
To the Slack Tub with a Hiss!
Another Present done with Joyful Bliss!

To the top of the Anvil!
Another did fly!
Now bash away! Bash away!
Bash away all!
Christmas is really a ball!

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