Now some love to visit far distant lands. Some go to Paris and Rome, But the spot I love best and I'm longing to see, Is my own little sweet village home; It was there many times I played when a boy: And there's where I always could stop. To see the old black-smith display his great powers, In the old village Black-smith Shop.
Cho. - Oh! bang, bang, bang, goes the hammer on the anvil, All day long at the door I'd stop, List'ning to the music made by honest toil, In the old village black-smith shop
When I was a boy my companions and I, Would stand by the old smithy's fire; And gaze on the black-smith with wonder and awe, At his wonderful sinewy power, It was then the old man would turn round and smile; And then from his work he would stop. To play with us lads, as if he were our dad, In the old village Black-smith Shop.
Oh, often I think of those days long gone by, When to the old smithy I'd go; To assist the old man, on a box I would stand, And with pleasure his bellows would blow; But the old man has gone to his last resting place; No more at the door shall I stop. To see the sparks fly from the fire to the sky, In the old village Black-smith Shop.
P. J. Dennis, 455 N. Gay Street, Baltimore, Md.
Publisher of American, Irish, Dutch, Sailor, Soldier, Negro, Comic, Humorous, College, Sentimental, Social and Religious, Choice Selected Standard Songs.
Click tabs to swap between content that is broken into logical sections.
Permission to reproduce or publish this item is required and may be subject to copyright, fees, and other legal restrictions imposed by parties outside of the Library. The Enoch Pratt Free Library is not responsible for the outside use of these images but is committed to the responsible and legal use of any content posted on its web site. Any questions regarding the legal nature of content on this site may be referred to email@example.com.