Friday, May 21, 2010

A Complaint of the Blacksmiths

A metalworker who wields fire and bellows, hammer and anvil.

"Swart smutted smiths, smattered with smoke,

Drive me to death with din of their dints;

Such noise on nights ne heard men never,

What knaven cry and clattering of knocks!

The crooked caitiffs cryen after col! col!

And blowen their bellows that all their brain bursteth.

Huf! puf! saith that one; haf! paf! that other;

They spitten and sprawlen and spellen many spells.

They grawen and gnashen, they groan all together,

And holden them hot with their hard hammers.

Of a bull-hide be their barm-fells;

Their shanks be shackled for the fiery flinders;

Heavy hammers they have that hard be handled,

Stark strokes they striken on a steely stock,

Lus! bus! las! das! snore they by the row,

Such doleful a dream the devil it to-drive!

The master loungeth a little, and catcheth a less,

Twineth them twain and toucheth a treble,

Tik! tak! hic! hac! tiket! taket! tyk! tyk!

Lus! bus! lus! das!... Christ them give sorrow!

May no man for brenn-waters on night have his rest."

"A Poet's Complaint of the Blacksmiths," Arundel Manuscript (14th century).

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