Two sisters lived alone at the foot of Bidston Hill
With the Sun Goddess for company and she remains there still
In the days of Good King Charles she was watching, she was smiling
At the ancient myths and legends and the shadows on the hill

And the lighthouse on the hill can tell the stories of the wreckers
And the cries of drowning sailors are carried on the wind
And the sun goddess she smiles at the history repeating
And the tale of Richard Tilley, who haunted Bidston Hill

On Bidston Hill he lies, from cellar to the grave
No Christian burial afforded he, so he’s buried on Bidston Hill

Margaret was alone in a house that held a secret
And as the candle flickered there he stood in his coat of red
‘Come, my pretty maid, I will kiss you, I will love you
Come my pretty maid and I’ll take you to my bed’

On Bidston Hill he lies, from cellar to the grave
No Christian burial afforded he, so he’s buried on Bidston Hill

Margaret screamed for help as she lifted up the candle
And he disappeared before her towards the cellar door
The door was ever locked from that moment and then forever
And the sun goddess she smiled because she’d seen it all before

On Bidston Hill he lies, from cellar to the grave
No Christian burial afforded he, so he’s buried on Bidston Hill

In the cold of twenty-two the story was unfolded
As the cellar floor it gave up the secret that it knew
They found Richard Tilley there with a bible in his hand
In a coffin with a pentagram, the mark of Satan too

On Bidston Hill he lies, from cellar to the grave
No Christian burial afforded he, so he’s buried on Bidston Hill
And the lighthouse on the hill can tell the stories of his fate
No Christian burial afforded he, so he’s buried on Bidston Hill