Before iron ruled and steel took hold, I forged the weapons heroes sold. The age of man once spoke my name, what am I, of ancient fame?

If I don't fit you must acquit! If I do shame on me.

I should fit in your pocket, but I'm more likely to swing and jingle.

In the grass I stand so bright, A yellow sun in morning light. But when I turn all white and gray, You’ll huff and puff me far away.

A little shake, a fiery flair, I sit with salt most everywhere.