I walk the streets of Dublin town
It's 1842
It's snowing on this Christmas Eve
Think I'll beg another bob or two
I'll huddle in this doorway here
Till someone comes along
If the lamp lighter1 comes real soon
Maybe I'll go home with him
Chorus
Maybe I can find a place I can call my home
Maybe I can find a home I can call my own 2
The horses on the cobbled stones pass by
Think I'll get one one fine day
And ride into the country side
And very far away
But now as the daylight disappears
I best find a place to sleep
Think I'll slip into the bell tower
In the church just down the street
Chorus
Maybe on the way I'll find the dog3
I saw the other night
And tuck him underneath my jacket
So we'll stay warm through the night
As we lie in the bell tower high
And dream of days to come
The bells o'er head will call the hour
The day we will find a home
1. one of the lost trades, that of going to turn on and off the street lamps of the city lights, once oil lamps and then gas lamps; some cities in Europe and the United States, however, have retained (or restored) gas lighting in some areas of historical importance or tourism2. the girl is a orphan, but hopes (in vain) to be able to make a family of her own, get married and have children to feel at home: an unrealizable desire expressed to Jesus for Christmas3. her desperate need of affection will be poured on a stray dog with which to curl up to sleep and share dreams