The Bells Of Shandon

With deep affection and recollection
I often think of those Shandon bells
Whose sounds so wild would In days of childhood
Fling ’round my cradle their magic spells
On this I ponder, where’er I wander
And then grow fonder, sweet Cork, of thee
While thy bells of Shandon sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee

I’ve heard bells chiming full many a clime in
Tolling sublime in cathedral shrine
While at a glib rate brass tongues would vibrate
But all their music spoke naught like thine
For mem’ry dwelling on each proud swelling
Of thy belfry, knelling its bold notes free
Made the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee

I’ve heard bells tolling “Old Adrian’s Mole”
In their thunders rolling from the Vatican
With cymbals glorious, swinging uproarious
In the gorgeous turrets of Notre Dame
But thy sounds are sweeter than the dome of Peter
Flings o’er the Tiber, pealing solemnly
Oh! the bells of Shandon sound far more grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee

There’s a bell in Moscow, while on tower And kiosk O
In St. Sophia the Turkman gets
And loud in air calls men to prayer
From the tap’ring summit of tall minarets
Such empty phantom I freely grant them
But there’s an emblem more dear to me
­’Tis the bells of Shandon that sound so grand on
The pleasant waters of the river Lee