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Did his hand tremble in fear ye wonder,
Or from the weight of the bloodied Claymore that he held?
Chanting oaths the savages pressed upon the gate;
All the while the church Bell --
Knelled, knelled, knelled.
He watched legs splayed, their last defender fall;
Shriven from repeated blows.
Yes, his hand was trembling; thirsting.
"Father, they will not pass beyond me,
As long as my blood flows".
They burst within the courtyard,
Looking at their prey, their eerie chorus swelled.
All the while the church Bell --
Knelled, knelled, knelled.
His blade seemed to whisper death, as he slew among their rank;
Then struck foul from behind, to his knees he sank.
He raised his sword and cried, "God let me fight on,
And for a moment more let my soul hold its weld."
All the while the church Bell --
Knelled, knelled, knelled.
The enemy keened around him, each trying to serve him his last blow;
But his sword reaped like a scythe, as they tried to take him low.
And he would not loose his ghost, 'till ten more of the wretches he had felled.
All the while the church Bell --
Knelled, knelled, knelled.
His body, torn and broken, but he would not let it fall;
'Till the enemy fled at his courage, then he answered to God's call.
He had fought beside his brothers; they to, at death's call had rebelled.
All the while the church Bell --
Knelled, knelled, knelled.
The priest railed; these lads ...O, sweet lads.
Too early to their grave! Who were not yet of an age,
And who were not yet brave. Yet picked up the swords of others,
And fought with the strength only children have;
That fight to hold death at arms length from their mothers.
Aye, stories shall be written, of how their fragile line they held...
Booming tears, the church Bell --
Knelled, knelled, knelled.
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