Ring Your Sweet Bells; But Let Them Be Farewells To The Green-Vista'D Gladness Of The Past That Changed Us Into Soldiers; Swing Your Bells To A Joyful Chime; But Let It Be The Last. What Means This Metal In Windy Belfries Hung When Guns Are All Our Need? Dissolve These Bells Whose Tones Are Tuned For Peace: With Martial Tongue Let Them Cry Doom And Storm The Sun With Shells. Bells Are Like Fierce-Browed Prelates Who Proclaim That "If Our Lord Returned he'd Fight For Us." So Let Our Bells And Bishops Do The Same, Shoulder To Shoulder With The Motor Bus.