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Poem
February 22, 1957
The Prison Mirror
Stillwater, Washington County, Minnesota
What is this article about?
A satirical poem lamenting the transformation of a traditional village blacksmith into a wealthy, idle man due to his children's success, contrasting past hard work with modern frivolity and loss of values.
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OCR Quality
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Excellent
Full Text
THE GONE BLACKSMITH
by L. F. Lutterman
Beside his shiny Cadillac
The village smithy stands;
There is no muscle on his arms
Nor callus on his hands:
Pink flesh drapes down beneath
his chin
In puffy loops and strands.
No longer do the children shout
To hear the bellows roar.
No longer do the sparks fly high,
Then twinkle to the floor.
For the hand that held the hammer
Makes the anvil ring no more.
The smithy's kids are flush with
cash
The flowing kind you see,
They've had their dad hang up his
tools
Beneath the chestnut tree,
"Enjoy yourself, Old Man," they
say,
"For now you're rich and free."
His daughter is an actress now,
A sweetheart and a dear,
She makes a thousand bucks a
week
For advertising beer.
She brings home more each Satur-
day
Than dad made in a year.
She's now divorcing number three
The flighty little brat!
She wants a hundred bucks a week
To feed herself and cat.
Her grounds are mental agony;
(I have to laugh at that.)
In school she flunked in every
thing,
In history, spelling, math.
She would not know George Wash-
ington
If he should cross her path.
And she cannot tell a two by four
From eighty tons of lath
The blacksmith used to go
to
church,
And sit among his boys
But now such things to him would
be
Just bunk and tinker-toys.
He tells the Parson, "I would come,
But just can't stand the noise."
His daughter now has husband
four,
He drives a mammoth car.
They met one Thursday . . . . so
I'm told,
Down at the corner bar.
His daddy is a millionaire,
With all his stock at par.
Yes, gone are the days the smithy
stood,
With sweat upon his brow.
Gone is the sledge the smithy used
To hammer out the plow.
They might as well be gone I
guess
He couldn't lift 'em now.
by L. F. Lutterman
Beside his shiny Cadillac
The village smithy stands;
There is no muscle on his arms
Nor callus on his hands:
Pink flesh drapes down beneath
his chin
In puffy loops and strands.
No longer do the children shout
To hear the bellows roar.
No longer do the sparks fly high,
Then twinkle to the floor.
For the hand that held the hammer
Makes the anvil ring no more.
The smithy's kids are flush with
cash
The flowing kind you see,
They've had their dad hang up his
tools
Beneath the chestnut tree,
"Enjoy yourself, Old Man," they
say,
"For now you're rich and free."
His daughter is an actress now,
A sweetheart and a dear,
She makes a thousand bucks a
week
For advertising beer.
She brings home more each Satur-
day
Than dad made in a year.
She's now divorcing number three
The flighty little brat!
She wants a hundred bucks a week
To feed herself and cat.
Her grounds are mental agony;
(I have to laugh at that.)
In school she flunked in every
thing,
In history, spelling, math.
She would not know George Wash-
ington
If he should cross her path.
And she cannot tell a two by four
From eighty tons of lath
The blacksmith used to go
to
church,
And sit among his boys
But now such things to him would
be
Just bunk and tinker-toys.
He tells the Parson, "I would come,
But just can't stand the noise."
His daughter now has husband
four,
He drives a mammoth car.
They met one Thursday . . . . so
I'm told,
Down at the corner bar.
His daddy is a millionaire,
With all his stock at par.
Yes, gone are the days the smithy
stood,
With sweat upon his brow.
Gone is the sledge the smithy used
To hammer out the plow.
They might as well be gone I
guess
He couldn't lift 'em now.
What sub-type of article is it?
Satire
Ballad
What themes does it cover?
Satire Society
Moral Virtue
What keywords are associated?
Blacksmith
Village Smithy
Modern Wealth
Family Satire
Traditional Values
Daughter Actress
Divorce
Church Abandonment
What entities or persons were involved?
By L. F. Lutterman
Poem Details
Title
The Gone Blacksmith
Author
By L. F. Lutterman
Form / Style
Rhymed Stanzas
Key Lines
Beside His Shiny Cadillac
The Village Smithy Stands;
There Is No Muscle On His Arms
Nor Callus On His Hands:
No Longer Do The Children Shout
To Hear The Bellows Roar.
No Longer Do The Sparks Fly High,
Then Twinkle To The Floor.
Yes, Gone Are The Days The Smithy
Stood,
With Sweat Upon His Brow.
Gone Is The Sledge The Smithy Used
To Hammer Out The Plow.
They Might As Well Be Gone I Guess
He Couldn't Lift 'Em Now.