THE CHURCH BELL Marcos Gomes-Catao How whirled my life as a child Around the trusty church bell blithe! Its sound reigned from morn to night With a set ding-dong rite It woke us up at dawning light With eleven measured claps right Heralds of Angelus matutine To start the day with praises divine At seven for Mass it beckoned And hurriedly our vests we donned Leaving the old ladies scurrying behind Their black veils flying in the wind Feast days it pealed with unusual bang To the merriment of the gang. The belfry crows were not amused And swiftly other refuge pursued At mid-day the stomach griped When once again the bell cried We ran to sit first at table Greedy eyes glued on the 'tables If out, we knew time to go home When at six it tolled again Announcing the evening 'Hail Mary' To the pius folks of the city At eight finally our day it ended Sadly recalling the dearly departed Except if later with five knells It hinted the moribund saved from hell Alas! Progress' pervasive noise Has muffled the old bell's voice! No place in modern mega-city For a bell's comforting intimacy.
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