When I was a lad in Petherick
I often lay me down
And built a beautiful city
And called it London Town.
I filled its streets with heroes
Beautiful strong and wise,
Men who were kings and princes,
Women with kindly eyes.
I spent the gold of the charlock
For paving the city street;
I saw bright flags awaving
Over the billowing wheat;
And loud in the brown bee's buzzing
I heard the far-off hum
Of the mart and the busy merchants,
And the wharves where the big ships come.
When I was a lad in Petherick
I often lay me down,
And built this wonderful city,
And called it London Town.
Now I'm a man in London —
Golden dreams I had
Of a golden city of London
Long since when I was a lad.
Here on the long grey pavement
I seek that city still
But there is n't much gold in Fleet Street,
Or glamour on Ludgate Hill.
For the hurrying men look haggard,
And the women have weary eyes,
And the voices of pale-faced children
Mingle in fretful cries.
There's gold in the field of charlock,
There's gold on the billowing wheat,
And the bee sucks golden honey
In lanes where the flowers are sweet.
And small ships sail in the distance
To a golden bourne in the west,
And the gentle peace of twilight
Is the purest gold of rest.
Dreams of the man in London!
Useless dreams and sad,
Of the far-off village of Petherick
And the far-off Cornish lad.