Smithy Works. Poem by Gangadharan nair Pulingat..

Blacksmiths, village blacksmiths
Their memories are fading away
Their workshops, work styles no more.
The great technicians of villages,
Their service to village people were great.

They made sharpened sickles to reap
To reap the harvest in seasons
The beautiful paddy field those times
People in numbers came to their workshop.

They made equipment in local needs
In the tastes of their village community
Exchange of labor charges in paddy
Or sometimes in petty cash payments
Still they liked their living conditions.

Blacksmiths the hard working people
Beautiful sharpened implements for agriculture
Made by their hard work and dedication
Agriculture depended upon their technical skill.

Beautiful and safe locks and keys they made
Not studied in any technical institutes
Still they learned their profession in perfection
From father to son the rich heritage they acquired.

Blacksmiths village black smiths respectable humans
Their memories ever in people's minds
Irrespective of changing situations
Let their followers make worthy living
By acquiring modern techniques and theories.
A bright future and earning power they require.