The Lamplighter (England 1914)

(álbum: At The End Of A Perfect Day - 1985)

Night stirs her inky finger in the water of the day
The tired sun drops slowly in the sky
And everywhere the gentle air hangs heavy with the day-song
Evening calls the lamplighter to come

Children's wooden hoops go clattering down the street
Soon they're called inside, it's getting late
The brown canal now splashed with red reflects on swallows' wings
The lamplighter knows the song the evening sings

But the gas-lamps stand like soldiers hiss warnings to the wind
Their evening vespers prophecy of war
The world divides and men take sides
The spark bursts into flame
Nothing can be quite the same again

A dog barks in the distance, child cries in her sleep
The night waits for the dawn with baited breath
The old school, the old rule rung out on a muffin man's bell
The lamplighter has made his nightly call

Dreams of hope and peace sent clattering down the streets
Empty like the promises they've made
The wars rage on, and if I'm wrong, will someone please explain
That peace is not the lamplighter, cos he's not coming back again