The Blacksmith and His Three Sons

Cole Silverman

Class of 2024

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There once was a man with a white, scruffy beard and wide, jet-black eyes,

Who worked tirelessly in his blacksmith shop so his three sons wouldn’t cry.

From Dusk till Dawn, the man worked with a hammer, anvil, and unshaped metal.

He cold-forged the materials into shape until his customers were settled.

His shop was worn down with a burnt charcoal smell,

And the interior walls were brown and rusty, some even had swells.

His village was poor with lots of neighboring wooden houses.

And since the town was small, chatter spread quickly between partners and spouses.

So one day, murmurs spread from other villages, and people started to scour

As they heard of revolutionary machines doing the work of 30 men in just one hour.

When the man got the news, he sat down, sipped water, and scratched his bald, shiny head.

As he knew his job would soon become modernized, and his old style would soon become dead.

The man had to save his job so he could provide for his sons

As he wanted them to live a decent life and not survive off crumbs.

So he pondered real hard to come up with a miraculous saving plan.

But he knew, the machines were beasts of work, and he was just a mere man.

He left his house and briskly walked toward the king’s royal, gold throne,

And as he neared the palace, he started to feel desperate and alone.

When he entered the palace, he was forced to stand outside and wait,

Which didn’t help his nerves as he knew the king would soon settle his family’s fate.

But when he saw the king, the stress flew away as he started to beg and squeal.

And after long hours of debate, the king felt bad, so they agreed on a deal.

The deal was tough like diamond and required Herculean levels of work.

But if it could save his sons, he would abide by the rules and keep a sly, little smirk.

The man had to build all requested supplies of the land before sunrise the next day.

And if he failed, the king would use the machines and ignore any sadness or dismay.

But upon completion, the king promised he would take care of the sons for the rest of their lives.

And if they were respectful, he would even set them up with beautiful, lavish wives.

So the king gave him a list of what everyone in the land needed,

And the man dashed back to his house as he wouldn’t be defeated.

The man ensured his sons were asleep and then began to craft and pound away.

He worked assiduously, inhaling smoke and chemicals that could turn his lungs gray.

He labored through the night while his face turned alarm-siren red and his veins deep sea blue.

And with each passing hour of made materials, the man’s confidence exponentially grew.

The shop had started to have unhealthy amounts of steam and smoke.

But the man would not quit, as he was determined to fill his sons’ lives with happiness and hope.

Sunrise came, and the king went to see if the task had been done.

But when he arrived, he only found three hysterical and tearful, disconsolate sons.

He peeked inside the shop to find the man lying on the ashy, floor deceased.

And as he realized a good man had died, he pleaded for someone to find a priest.

The king felt sick since he knew his deal had killed this loving father.

And from that day on, when anyone wanted something, he told them it wouldn’t be a bother.