1. In the smithy by the fire, Stands the blacksmith tall and strong. He strikes the anvil, sparks of fire scatter, And he sings a lusty song. He strikes the anvil, sparks of fire scatter, And he sings a lusty song. 2. Sings of freedom that is coming, And his brave song rocks the place. But he takes no notice of the streams Of perspiration on his face. But he takes no notice of the streams Of perspiration on his face. 3. Thoughts of freedom are enchanting; He keeps singing, and it rings. But the hammer, it beats stronger, And he hears not what he sings. But the hammer, it beats stronger, And he hears not what he sings. 4. Of the earth bedecked with flowers, He continues on, inspired. Now his anvil's growing cooler, Still he strikes and is not tired. Now his anvil's growing cooler, Still he strikes and is not tired