Under the hills behind my Camden house

There are old mine workings much flooded by the winter rains

They are only visited during the pleasure months

By single men in search of their lives

I have never visited these mines

But I have often seen five or more carousels

Spinning at night on the gentle slopes of the Camden Hill

Each of these carousels is lit by many coloured lights

Which glisten brightly in the quiet darkness of the night

My favourite is the blue carousel which spins without effort at the base of the hill

I am quite fond of the green and orange carousels whose looped music is soft and shrill

But the red carousel brings me no favour as its hideous beasts disturb me