The Bells of Shandon

E. NASON & CO SONG PUBLISHERS, 120 Fulton Street, New York

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 spell;
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

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

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

There’s a bell in Moscow, while on tow’r and kiosk!
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

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