Classic Poem

Sooty, swart smiths, smattered with smoke,
Drive me to death with the din of their dents.
Such noise at night no man heard, never:
With knavish cries and clattering of knocks!
The crooked cretins call out, "Coal, coal!".
And blow their bellows, that all their brains burst:
"Huff, puff!" says that one; "haff, paff!" that other.
They spit and sprawl and spill many spells;
They gnaw and gnash, they groan together
And hold their heat with their hard hammers.
Of bullhide are their broad aprons made;
Their shanks be shackled for the fiery flinders;
Heavy hammers they have that are hard-handled,
Stark strokes they strike on a steely stump:
LUS, BUS! LAS, DAS! rants the row--
So doleful a dream, the Devil destroy it!
The master lengthens little and labors less,
Twines a two and touches a trey:
Tick, tack! hick, hack! ticket, tacket! tyke, take!
LUS, BUS! LAS, DAS! Such lives they lead,
These cobblemares: Christ give them grief!
May none of these waterburners by night have his rest!