A tale inspired by a visit to “Lark Hill Place” in Salford’s Museum and Art Gallery
forging metal for the ‘smith
who fixes shoes for the horses
and the wheels for the carts they’re with
when the coals dim their glow
but the iron fires up brightly
and on the anvil it goes
bashing horseshoes to go on their feet
and wont hit nails in t’ hooves till
he knows that everythings reet
end up back in the oven to glow
will the shoes in this rhyme, fit the horse in time?
Only the smithy will knowBut the blacksmith’s an honest profession
and horses, he’ll come to their aid.
Making horseshoes that are nice, set at the right price
ensuring that he gets well paid.