Ah! The spring bells ring below.
The waters run to flood.
And too soon sail invaders
wanting plunder, flesh, and blood.
They ring the spring bells in the vale.
It is a happy sign,
between the zephyr and the gale
to make the summer wine.
And hard at work the bardic guilds
will seek to make their coin
at night in all the taverns when
the men and women join.
The bells of spring don’t just ring here,
but all throughout the land.
The frozen winter’s over.
Child at breast, and sword in hand.
Sometimes they’ll ring out happiness,
and other times, alarm.
Their song unites the people,
hand in hand, or arm in arm.
We pray always the bells of spring,
will now and ever always ring.
Beyond Panic 