The Blacksmith Song

--Epilogue--

(The alleged creator and his creation are dead. And so is the tale apparently. Or is it?)  

The Blacksmith told me in after-life

He didn’t but the infamy did survive

The applause he’d had once with zest

It’s high time the case be put to rest.

Chorus:

Put to rest, put to rest.

It’s high time the case be put to rest…

Now the old Knock-Knock joker is up there

The Blacksmith and its creator both would share

A glass of whisky on the rocks

Revel and revile some Kooler Talks.

The beak of steel was used to stir

And the big round wheel stank of slur 

Up there the two silver bowls did rust

And the whole steamy thing gathered dust.

Chorus:

Gathered dust, gathered dust.

The whole steamy thing gathered dust…

To wipe the bowels clean next day

Apologies were due to his dismay.

The surd’s wit and the Blacksmith’s rod

Would shun what now no one could laud.

So they sat on their respective pots

In hereafter, took a line of whisky shots.

The satisfied commode had been lit

The whole damn thing was full of shit.

Chorus:

Full of shit. Full of shit.

The whole damn thing was full of shit…