Eric O’Neill on Robert Street
A mighty smith did forge nearby,
The work was hot and heavy, I say with a sigh.
Smiths toiled in the darkness of a smoke filled place,
The above bronze plaque leaves, its only trace.
Now it’s time to remember the trades of old,
Their work is all around us, it needs respect, and its story told.
The forged iron has aged, and is now tired, like a sentry it has served its station well.
Its intrinsic beauty remains, to those initiated to the art of the fire, it still casts its spell.
– Eric O Neill (An Artist Blacksmith)