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Hammerchant
By M. S. Raper
A maker's hand,
Numbers seven you see,
Five fingers,
A sturdy tool,
All guided by one goal,
Creation,
Hearken to its primal, rhythmic soul.
Five strong fingers 'round a haft they close,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
A fist goes up and a fist comes down,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
The Will and the Word and the Way all fold,
Pounded flat by the hammer they hold,
Crash goes the hammer on the Anvil.
The sparks they fly from the hammer's ring,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
They fall to the ground as the anvil sings,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
A ragged breath from the bellows flow,
The embers pulse with a haunting glow,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil.
Way back in the depths of time,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
Was a smith that made the first sword shine,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
Well, a smith I was born and a smith I'll stay,
Shedding blood and sweat till my dying day,
Crash goes the hammer on the anvil,
As I forge the runes of Valhalla.
© 2000 M. S. Raper. All Rights Reserved.
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