Chorus:
Sparks fly hot, my anvil rings with pleasure,
Sparks fly hot, my hammer sings with pride.
A helm for the knight who lives on the heather,
A dagger for the squire riding at his side;
I've made mail for the Baron, gauntlets for the King,
Belts for several ladies so I sing.
Chorus
I've apprentices and many, incompetence they've shown
But with a firm hand I make the right way known
I've a wife who bears fine children, sons to follow me,
They'll make a fine living in the armory.
Chorus
When I'm old and my name is known throughout the land
I'll die and be buried, hammer in my hand.
Chorus