The Carillon

Up in the bell tower Over yonder way They ring for the hour Of twelve on God’s days Upon the carillon Guised in a garb pitch dark A man plays a song Which sets a mood so stark Today we mourn the death Of the beloved whom we hold Lost in body, taken from breath Life is purely gold Tomorrow is celebration We bring upon us birth! Though not death’s justification We welcome new life to Earth. The man upon the bells is gast But he plays our theme for the present Though we shall ne’er forget the past He rules our day, for we are his mere peasants The beautiful enchantment of the carillon And the wild entrancement it carries on We fall in love, we mourn, we smile We hear its song, we’re soon beguiled Who is this man? What is his name? He must be man, He must be famed! But all we know is that up in that tower Over yonder way At the twelfth hour A black-garbed phantom will tell us who we are and what we feel today.