Up on the hill br In the posh areas br Where the Victorian villas br Were set back from tree lined roads, br The gas lamps in the streets were br Wrought iron, carved and elegant. br The lampleerie would open them br And light each lamp br One by one. br As each glowed with a warm soft light br They seemed like necklaces; br Shining jewels beading br Their way around the night. br br Down near the docks br The tenements were dark and dank. br Their closes shadowed br With children's ghostly fears. br But every night at twilight br Our leerie came down from the hill. br With his long pole br He stretched up, turned on the taps. br Spluttering flames first blue br Then coming to brilliant life, br Spreading wide arcs of welcoming light. br And all our bogeymen took flight.