Where's The Village Smithie Today?
music by sammy timberg / lyrics by jack scholl
|
|
WHERE'S THE VILLAGE SMITHIE TODAY?
SHOEIN' HOSSES (POPEYE) 1934 |
|
|
|
Where's the Village Smithie Today is an original song from the 1934 Popeye short Shoein' Hosses. The song was composed by Sammy Timberg with lyricist Jack Scholl. This was one of Scholl's first film credits, and his first of several collaborations with Timberg. In 1934, the two also contributed songs to a few Betty Boop shorts and the 1934 Color Classics short An Elephant Never Forgets. Over the next 20 years Scholl wrote lyrics and music for hundreds of productions including the classic 1942 film Casablanca . In the song Where's the Village Smithie Today, "village smithie" is an enduring reference to the village blacksmith, spoken in typical Popeye dialect. The song was inspired by a slew of songs and films that broke out after a popular 1860 poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow - The Village Blacksmith. After the popular 1934 Popeye short, the trend continued, and the Timberg and Scholl song with it's "smithie" twist inspired the cartoon titles for a Looney Tunes and a Porky Pig cartoon - both titled The Village Smithy. The blacksmith was historically a important part of the community, but in the 1930s the blacksmith's business of making horseshoes wained as non-horse modes of transportation suddenly took over.
|
|
|
|
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
HARRY E. HUMPHREY - 1914 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH OWNS THE VILLAGE NOW
BILLY JONES & ERNEST HARE - 1926 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH OWNS THE VILLAGE NOW
BILLY JONES & ERNEST HARE - 1926 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH OWNS THE VILLAGE NOW
HARRY RESER AND HIS SIX JUMPING JACKS - 1926 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
PETER DAWSON - 1930 THE VILLAGE SMITHY
BAND OF ARGYLL & SUTHERLAND HIGHLANDERS - 19?? THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
OSCAR NATZKE - 1936 THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
D.C. HALL'S NEW CONCERT & QUADRILLE BAND - 2010 |
|
|
1922
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH silent film |
|
|
1933
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH TERRY TOONS |
|
|
1936
THE VILLAGE SMITHY (COLORIZED) LOONEY TUNES |
|
|
1942
THE VILLAGE SMITHY DONALD DUCK |
|
|
19??
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH BULLWINKLE'S CORNER |
|
|
|
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH - 1860
poem by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow |
|
THE VILLAGE BLACKSMITH
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
Under a spreading chestnut-tree
The village smithy stands;
The smith, a mighty man is he,
With large and sinewy hands;
And the muscles of his brawny arms
Are strong as iron bands.
His hair is crisp, and black, and long,
His face is like the tan;
His brow is wet with honest sweat,
He earns whate'er he can,
And looks the whole world in the face,
For he owes not any man.
Week in, week out, from morn till night,
You can hear his bellows blow;
You can hear him swing his heavy sledge,
With measured beat and slow,
Like a sexton ringing the village bell,
When the evening sun is low.
And children coming home from school
Look in at the open door;
They love to see the flaming forge,
And hear the bellows roar,
And catch the burning sparks that fly
Like chaff from a threshing-floor.
He goes on Sunday to the church,
And sits among his boys;
He hears the parson pray and preach,
He hears his daughter's voice,
Singing in the village choir,
And it makes his heart rejoice.
It sounds to him like her mother's voice,
Singing in Paradise!
He needs must think of her once more,
How in the grave she lies;
And with his hard, rough hand he wipes
A tear out of his eyes.
Toiling,--rejoicing,--sorrowing,
Onward through life he goes;
Each morning sees some task begin,
Each evening sees it close
Something attempted, something done,
Has earned a night's repose.
Thanks, thanks to thee, my worthy friend,
For the lesson thou hast taught!
Thus at the flaming forge of life
Our fortunes must be wrought;
Thus on its sounding anvil shaped
Each burning deed and thought.
DISCLAIMER: This site is for entertainment purposes only. All recordings and videos are the property of their respective owners. No copyright infringement is intended. Copyright Disclaimer Under Section 107 of the Copyright Act of 1976, allowance is made for "fair use" for purposes such as criticism, comment, news reporting, teaching, scholarships and research. "Fair Use" is a use permitted by copyright statue that might otherwise be infringing.