The Farrier

The Farrier

There are always horses that need new shoes,
crooked feet that need a little trim.
I know a farrier that’s paid his dues,
although it’s taken the best of him.

Never been a horse that he couldn’t shoe,
he’s worked with the best and the worst.
As for the rank outlaws, there’s been a few,
but he gets their attention first.

Hard work has taken a toll on his hands,
gnarled and worn, pain creases his face.
This work mightn’t have been in his plans
It chose him, was rather the case.

Earning a living by sweat of his brow,
doing a job that few can do.
The work has gotten harder on him now,
but his hands still trim them up true.

He’s had many cracked ribs~many crushed toes,
broken bones that still ache ‘til this day.
There are many tricks that only he knows,
shoeing a horse isn’t child’s play.

Lean and lank, a somewhat tough old sod,
many nails have ripped through his skin.
No telling how many horses he’s shod,
they knock him down~he gets up again.

There will always be one more horse to shoe,
as long as his hand can hold a rasp.
They may scrape him up when his life is through,
he’ll still have his hammer in his grasp.
— Patricia Stephenson