England 1914

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 lamplight out to come Children's wooden hoops go clattering down the street Soon they're called inside, it's getting late. The grand 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 prophicy a war. The world divides And men take sides The spark bursts into flame Nothing can be quite the same again. Dog barks in the distance Child cries in her sleep Night waits for the dawn with baited breath. The old school, the old rule Rung out on a muffinman's bell The lamplighter has made his nightly call. Dreams of hope and peace Sent clattering down the streets Empty like the promises they made. The wars rage on, and different wrongs Will someone please explain That peace is not the lamplighter 'Cause he's not coming back again --- England 1914 - Ralph McTell