[ Featuring Ward ]
There was a time when a man relied on the skill of his own two hands
With simple pride he'd hammer and file the steel at his command
From the stiddy to the dolly wheel, taken through every stage
These were the men, the artisans, that followed the cutler's trade
Where are those little mesters now
To forge the steel and shape the blade
Master cutlers of a golden age
No finer craftsman ever found
Where are those little mesters now
In the vale beside the Don, in the workshops of Sheffield town
Mesters made the keenest blades, knives of high renown
The Bowie and the Barlow, with hafts of pearl and horn
The pocket knife, a craftsman's pride, these hand made skills passed on
Where are those little mesters now
To forge the steel and shape the blade
Master cutlers of a golden age
No finer craftsman ever found
Where are those little mesters now
When orders came from far and wide mesters could name their price
Now who'll 'prentice to the trade, as old skills wane and die
Dusty workshops empty now still echo with the sound
Of parsor, forge and grinding wheel and the working master man
Where are those little mesters now
To forge the steel and shape the blade
Master cutlers of a golden age
No finer craftsman ever found
Where are those little mesters now
