A poem by the Norwegian writer Johan Herman Wessel (1742-85)

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The smith and the baker

A small town there once was wherein a smith did dwell,

Who when irate turned dangerous as well.

He gained an enemy; (such lie in wait alway,

Myself I’ve none, and may

My reader likewise stay!)

By ill luck they not in the street

But in an inn did meet,

They drank (I too in inns imbibe;

Else to such places don’t subscribe.

None though, dear reader, rest content,

Save those of good repute frequent.)

They drank, then, both,

And after much loud shouting, many an oath,

The smith his foe’s bonce almost split.

So powerful was his clout

That his foe’s lights went out,

Nor have they since relit.

                  At once the smith they did detain.

A surgeon checked the man he’d slain

And wrote he met a violent death.

The killer, questioned, did at once confess.

He hoped his foe in th’other life

Would there forgive their erstwhile strife.

But now the fun starts! On the day

Before the judge shall have his say,

Four citizens up to him went

And of them the most eloquent

Did thus address:

                  “Oh judge most wise!

We know the city’s welfare you most prize;

This welfare though depends upon

Our smith not being dead and gone.

For can his death the dead man bring to life?

We’ll never find so competent a man again,

For whose crime we must pay so cruel a price,

If help he begs in vain.” –

“Consider though, dear friend! The price for life is life.” –

“A baker old and frail lives here.

Whom pox could take within the year.

We’ve two of them, the old one won’t be missed?

Then life’s by life repaid.” –

“Yes,” said the judge to them, “the idea’s quite well-made.

To slow things down I now must strive;

For in a case like this the arguments are rife –

If only I could spare the smith his life!

Farewell, good folk! I’ll do all that I can.” –

“Farewell, wise upright man!” –

                  He leafs through all his law books with great care;

But he finds nothing written there

Forbids him changing smith to baker, if inclined;

So he makes up his mind,

And here’s his sentence clear:

(Let all come forward who will hear!)

“’Tis true that blacksmith Jens

Can offer no defence

And has confessed here in this court

He Anders Pedersen t’eternity has brought;

But since we have but one smith in this town

I would be something of a clown

Should I desire to see him dead.

But there are two here who bake bread.”

                  “The sentence of the court:

The baker who is now of older years,

Shall for the murder with his own life pay,

A fitting punishment and one that’s clear,

A dire warning to all those that go astray.”

                  The baker cried such bitter tears,

As he was led away.

moral

                  Of death be always circumspect!

It tends to come just when you least expect.