The Blacksmiths

歌詞

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 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, May no man for bren-wateres on night han his rest.