A Blacksmith's Boy

Not quite a ballad yet, with a ballady flavour. Quatrains with chorus.

One sunny springtime morning
I met her on a fair day.
I saw her from a distance
Out strolling on the fair way.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

I heard that she was singing
As I maundered ever near;
The sweetest charming plainsong
Sent softly to my ear.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

She had the rarest countenance,
She had the fairest flowing hair;
She looked the grandest lady,
Ethereal beyond compare.

As like the springtime morning
She filled the air with joy...
She was a rose of England
And I a blacksmith's boy.

She was a rose of this fair land,
The flower of Saint George,
But I my master's vassal,
A servant of the forge.

So, like the springtime morning
She filled my heart with joy...
She, a rose of England
Whilst I, a blacksmith's boy.


       

Reviews

[Red Brick Keshner]

Reminded me of the blacksmith episode of the Father Brown series. Loved the feel of this poem and the truth that it bares. Thanks for sharing.

[Alan S Jeeves]

Thanks for your words Frederick, I don't often see 'Father Brown' on tv by I do enjoy the poetry of his creator, G.K. Chesterton. His 'Donkey' poem is one of my favourites. Kind regards, Alan