Come pull up a chair,

pray sit you down.

I’ll tell you a tale

of London Town.

A story to thrill

and I won’t hold back

about the legend

of Spring-Heeled Jack.

.

In those bygone days

when I was small,

it came to pass

that a man so tall

did prowl the streets

with roguish eye.

A man who could leap

two storeys high.

.

In the dark of night

in a leafy glade,

he stole a kiss

from a comely maid,

then off he went

in a blinding flash

with a bounding leap

and a daring dash.

.

The maid did scream

in great alarm

and brave men rushed

to cause him harm,

but Jack was gone

by a city mile.

Left a buxom girl

with a secret smile.

.

“Tell me, maiden,”

said the Squire so bold,

“about this demon

and we’ll take hold.”

“He was eight feet tall

and spat blue flame!

Please catch him, Sire,

to honour my name.”

.

The Squire rode hard

on this deep, dark night

with twenty stalwarts

in righteous might.

Jack was dancing

with leaps and hops.

Waltzing all over

the chimney tops.

.

“Tis he!” came the cry

and shots rang out,

but Jack came around,

gave a hefty clout.

Then off he leapt

with a leering aside

to the red-faced Squire

and his wounded pride.

.

Well, Jack jumped over

London’s tower,

danced a fine jig

through frame and bower.

He’d steal a kiss

through hooded cape

then off he’d bound

on his merry jape.

.

Now, Spring-Heeled Jack

doth care for naught.

Two hundred years

and ne’er been caught.

Out he’ll leap with

a cuddle and a sigh

for a winsome wench

with a wistful eye.

.

So, come you beauties,

you maidens fair

with flashing eyes

and shining hair.

Now, tell me ladies

(pray, don’t hold back),

perchance a kiss

from Spring-Heeled Jack?

.