He is a cobbler, they call him Mustafa,
There’s none like him in all of Persia.
The rich and poor, they come to him for shoes,
They love his work and the leather that he chooses.

He is a poor man, he works night and day,
For a few gold coins that you may like to pay.
He has a secret he’ll whisper in your ear,
He’ll tell you why they come to him from far and near.

I sew magic and dreams into every single shoe,
Magic and dreams especially for you.
The magic of dreams from an old man’s heart,
This is the charm that sets his work apart.

Through sultry days and through long velvet nights,
He thinks of soles and seams and colours warm and bright.
So, come to him when you’re troubled or weary,
He’ll give you shoes that are pure fantasy.

I sew magic and dreams into every single shoe,
Magic and dreams especially for you.
The magic of dreams from an old man’s heart,
This is the charm that sets his work apart.