THE OLD VILLAGE
BLACKSMITH SHOP.
Words and Music by Wm. J. Allen.
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.
