♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪Low shot light of a sharp December,Shifting lifted a morning haze,Opening fans of smooth sea water,Touched in silence the tiny bays.In bright Beaumaris the people waited,This was Laureley's day of days.♪♪♪♪♪♪♪♪At the northern end of the street,A vista of sunlit woodland,And south a tower across the waterFrom Hansom's Terrace,The glassed reflection of Penman Mower.High on her balcony, Laureley WilliamsWaved the shovel and shot the shower.Down on us all fell heated hapence,Up to her all of us looked for more.Laureley Williams, Laureley Williams,Lovelier now than ever before,With your straight black hairAnd your fresh complexion,Dumb and bright was the brooch you wore.♪♪Life be kind to you, Laureley Williams,With girlhood over and marriage begun,Queuing for buses and rearing children,Washing the dishes and missing the fun.May you still recall how you flung the coppersOn bright Beaumaris in winter sun.♪♪♪♪♪♪