Wrought Iron Ring   (words and music by Bill Pere)

The hammer stopped at the top of the stroke
As the blacksmith looked up at the doorway
Where the young woman waited and watched, and he started to say
"I'm glad you weren't hurt when your carriage wheel broke.
It won't take too long to repair."
But like the jewels that she wore, her eyes were just fixed in a stare

The afternoon sun shone off the silk in her dress,
And the silver she wore on her ears
He wondered if it might be the soot that was causing her tears
He followed her gaze through the swirls of the smoke
To the photograph up on the shelf
Her eyes asked the question her voice wouldn't ask by itself

"Who is that woman in the old photograph?
Though it's faded and cracked, you can still hear the laugh
In that face out of focus, a poor artist's portrait,
An unsteady hand's rendering
But captured with clarity there on her finger, a wrought iron ring"

He said "I've forged all the links of a hundred strong chains,
My father taught me to make things that last
But I've never been able to find this one link to my past
That's a picture of the only woman my father loved,
He still would if he were living today
He was poor, she was rich, so her parents sent her away

He loved that woman and he made her that ring.
All he could offer was a poor blacksmith's life
Though he made her my mother, he never made her his wife...
She was made to marry a rich man that she didn't love;
She was told 'Give it a chance for awhile'
I know she found that neither money nor time could buy her a smile "

Who is that woman in the old photograph?
Though it's faded and cracked, you can still hear the laugh
In that face out of focus, a poor artist's portrait,
An unsteady hand's rendering
But captured with clarity there on her finger, a wrought iron ring'

He said "Your carriage is fixed, it works good as new"
Then he told her how much it would be
She said "That's quite fine, money doesn’t matter to me
It's just something I have that doesn't mean much,
I can spend it just once and it's gone
It's the dreams in your head and the love in your heart that live on...

That's the one thing in life that my mother taught me,
And I'm reminded of that every day
By the one special thing that she gave me before she passed away..."
As she went through her purse, he tended the forge
It grew hot as the fire was fanned
But then he felt his blood running cold as she held out her hand...

Who is this woman that he'd never met
Who shimmered in shadows as his eyes became wet
She was a face out of focus, a poor artist's portrait,
An unsteady hand's rendering
But captured with clarity there on her finger…………..

 

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© Copyright Bill Pere - Mystic Music/Kidthink Music . All Rights Reserved.