paroles de chanson The Bells - Eric Woolfson
Hear
the
sledges
with
the
bells-
Silver
bells!
What
a
world
of
merriment
their
melody
foretells!
How
they
tinkle,
tinkle,
tinkle,
In
the
icy
air
of
night!
While
the
stars
that
oversprinkle
All
the
heavens,
seem
to
twinkle
With
a
crystalline
delight;
Keeping
time,
time,
time,
In
a
sort
of
Runic
rhyme,
To
the
tintinnabulation
that
so
musically
wells
From
the
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells-
From
the
jingling
and
the
tinkling
of
the
bells.
Hear
the
mellow
wedding
bells,
Golden
bells!
What
a
world
of
happiness
their
harmony
foretells!
Through
the
balmy
air
of
night
How
they
ring
out
their
delight!
From
the
molten-golden
notes,
And
an
in
tune,
What
a
liquid
ditty
floats
To
the
turtle-dove
that
listens,
while
she
gloats
On
the
moon!
Oh,
from
out
the
sounding
cells,
What
a
gush
of
euphony
voluminously
wells!
How
it
swells!
How
it
dwells
On
the
Future!
how
it
tells
Of
the
rapture
that
impels
To
the
swinging
and
the
ringing
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells,
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells-
To
the
rhyming
and
the
chiming
of
the
bells!
Hear
the
loud
alarum
bells-
Brazen
bells!
What
a
tale
of
terror,
now,
their
turbulency
tells!
In
the
startled
ear
of
night
How
they
scream
out
their
affright!
Too
much
horrified
to
speak,
They
can
only
shriek,
shriek,
Out
of
tune,
In
a
clamorous
appealing
to
the
mercy
of
the
fire,
In
a
mad
expostulation
with
the
deaf
and
frantic
fire,
Leaping
higher,
higher,
higher,
With
a
desperate
desire,
And
a
resolute
endeavor,
Now–now
to
sit
or
never,
By
the
side
of
the
pale-faced
moon.
Oh,
the
bells,
bells,
bells!
What
a
tale
their
terror
tells
Of
Despair!
How
they
clang,
and
clash,
and
roar!
What
a
horror
they
outpour
On
the
bosom
of
the
palpitating
air!
Yet
the
ear
it
fully
knows,
By
the
twanging,
And
the
clanging,
How
the
danger
ebbs
and
flows:
Yet
the
ear
distinctly
tells,
In
the
jangling,
And
the
wrangling,
How
the
danger
sinks
and
swells,
By
the
sinking
or
the
swelling
in
the
anger
of
the
bells-
Of
the
bells-
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells-
In
the
clamor
and
the
clangor
of
the
bells!
Hear
the
tolling
of
the
bells-
Iron
Bells!
What
a
world
of
solemn
thought
their
monody
compels!
In
the
silence
of
the
night,
How
we
shiver
with
affright
At
the
melancholy
menace
of
their
tone!
For
every
sound
that
floats
From
the
rust
within
their
throats
Is
a
groan.
And
the
people–ah,
the
people-
They
that
dwell
up
in
the
steeple,
All
Alone
And
who,
tolling,
tolling,
tolling,
In
that
muffled
monotone,
Feel
a
glory
in
so
rolling
On
the
human
heart
a
stone-
They
are
neither
man
nor
woman-
They
are
neither
brute
nor
human-
They
are
Ghouls:
And
their
king
it
is
who
tolls;
And
he
rolls,
rolls,
rolls,
Rolls
A
paean
from
the
bells!
And
his
merry
bosom
swells
With
the
paean
of
the
bells!
And
he
dances,
and
he
yells;
Keeping
time,
time,
time,
In
a
sort
of
Runic
rhyme,
To
the
paean
of
the
bells-
Of
the
bells:
Keeping
time,
time,
time,
In
a
sort
of
Runic
rhyme,
To
the
throbbing
of
the
bells-
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells-
To
the
sobbing
of
the
bells;
Keeping
time,
time,
time,
As
he
knells,
knells,
knells,
In
a
happy
Runic
rhyme,
To
the
rolling
of
the
bells-
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells:
To
the
tolling
of
the
bells,
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells
bells,
bells,
bells-
Of
the
bells,
bells,
bells,
bells
bells,
bells,
bells-
To
the
moaning
and
the
groaning
of
the
bells!
Bells!
Bells!
Bells!...
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