The Blacksmith and the Toffee-Maker

He was a blacksmith by trade
He used to live on his own
She was a little old maid
She was all gristle and bone, just a crone
That you might not have fancied yourself
She was not born to attract
She was lined up for the shelf
If it were not for the fact
The blacksmith loved her well
He loved her like hell
He used to grunt and sigh
Fit to die
But from afar
For he was shy
As blacksmiths often are

She made a meagre livelihood
From her home-made toffee that she'd sell
Up and down the neighbourhood
To a butterscotch and caramel clientele
And optimistically she used to think
That she would get a husband yet
She was far too modest to wink
to proud to be coquette, you bet
'Cos she'd got a squint
She was skinny, she was skint
It never seemed that she,
So palpably
Bizarre and banal,
Could ever be
A femme fatale.

Time has no time to spare
And the years went by as they must
The spinster shivered with despair
And the blacksmith sweated with lust, fit to bust
Until one day she went into the church
Her simple heart to unclose
Lord, don't leave me in the lurch
Don't turn up your nose, God knows
I'm not much cop
But my legs go up to the top
Oh tell me why
You've passed me by
And if you can
Dear Lord on high
Get me a man

She, she was in for a shock
For high in the tower like a bird
The smith was mending the clock
And he had overheard every word
He nearly fell off his perch with delight
But, stout fellow, he kept his head
He didn't snigger as a lot of men might
but in the tones of Jehovah instead, he said
You're not bereft
There's a good lad left
He's nothing flash but still
Reliable
Staunch and true
Dear daughter, will
Will a blacksmith do?

The spinster's eyes opened wide
When she heard the Almighty One
In a trembling voice she replied, Lord
Any man is better than none, whereupon
The joyous blacksmith went home at the trot
Dressed up to kill in a tick
Went and asked her if she'd have him or not
And she said yes damn quick
Because she knew her state
It's daft to wait when love is overdue
to miss your cue
Delay or demur
In answer to
A little cri de coeur.

This is as much of a romance
As all of the others that you get
And not so much a song and a dance
As your Romeo & Juliet, nor as wet
Because their love didn't go to their head
No call to go berserk
The spinster went up to bed
And the blacksmith went to work, don't smirk
Such loves are few
They were happy, they were true
They knew their hearts' desires
As love requires
With some deceits
He used his fires
To boil up her sweets