The Blacksmith

The old man blacksmith mediocre in town, once was employed to make swords for the crown. When his work began to dwindle the people did object. The old man blacksmith stood firm that it wasn’t neglect. His bellows blew sturdy and his fires red-hot. Twas the loneliness in his bedroom that made the old man fraught. Ladies paraded all day and all night, nary a one fair maiden managed to satiate his sight. One moist morning a lady came calling. Her scent of bees, trees, and soiled seeds told the old man blacksmith from where she came falling. From scent to sight the old mans heart leapt, she fell from heaven right to his doorstep. Everything was perfect from wedding to boudoir. It was, that is, until she made him scar. She stole his tools and sold them 20 shillings a pop. She then used the shillings at ye olde ring shop. She was to marry his brother the mean streak bad cop. His horse was tougher and so was his posse. The damage he caused was erratic and costly. When his bitch ex-wife returned to say sorry the old man blacksmith to cry not, tried hardly. Instead he looked at her and grunted she scurried off in dismay.
This young darlings is the story of the Old Blacksmith turned gay.