Dobbin's Day

There's the musical note in the country town
   That comes from the olden years,
When the clattering cars fly up and down,
   And the bustle of morn appears.
It's the tink-tonk, tink-tonk,
   Ringing adown the street,
Ringing the chime of olden times
   In the anvils' steady beat.

For Dobbin's gone back to the furrow once more,
   To the labor of days long gone;
The smith has deserted his garage door,
   And his leathern apron's on.
He is plying his trade in the smithy's shade,
   Happy again, perchance,
With his tink-tonk, tink-tonk,
   Like the echo of old romance.