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.<br /><br />Margery Rehman<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flashes-from-childhood-2-the-lamplighter-leerie-in-scots/
