The old church bells are ringing still
All day they've celebrated
They say it's been a hundred years
Since they were consecrated

They sing a happy song today
Their half a dozen voices
Sound just like the kiddies at their play
As they chase around the houses

And up and down, and in and out
They ring in jubilation
Like children in the playground shout
A glorious exhultation

A thousand hands have held the swinging ropes
And learned the art of ringing change on change
Grandshire and Steadman, Double Bob, and Rounds;
That wake the lonely cottage, and the distant Grange

Now loud and clear round after round
The very air shakes as they shout and play
Then faint, remote their voices sound
Borne on the wind away