They saw each other at noon, every day of every week.
To take their meal, side by side, at the bleak cafe in town.
The arrogant wordsmith was thin, bespectacled with long
wispy hair that fell to his shoulders.
A big boulder of a man formed the haughty blacksmith.
300 pounds of red meat, gravy and potatoes.
Recycled into a brawny giant of 6'5".
The arrogant skeleton was the only man alive
who was not afraid of Matthew Morrissey McDougall!
They argued about everything, anything and nothing.
Insignificant items and other oddball obsessions
all quite relevant to their small town and its way of life.
"Wordsmiths are better than blacksmiths
any day of the wretched week!"
"Who cares about literature. It's a bunch of rubbish."
"But McDougall, my fine brute,
words live on throughout the centuries."
"But Oliver, my scrawny little friend, iron is strong.
It will last much longer than your stupid words.
They can burn up..."
That ignited Oliver's incredible ire.
"Books may burn but the lessons linger.
Poetry and prose move men's souls."
"Iron is needed for the wheels
that move men and their things..."
The two sat drinking and eating.
A quiet lull soon erupted.
In between their daily disagreement.
The schoolhouse bell started ringing
and they heard schoolchildren laughing.
They slowly said their not-so-fond farewells.
Saving their endless argument for the next day
and many other days that would surely follow.
For these two, life was never humdrum!