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