by Bob Dylan



Ring them bells, ye heathen

From the city that dreams,

Ring them bells from the sanctuaries

Cross the valleys and streams,

For they're deep and they're wide

And the world's on its side

And time is running backwards

And so is the bride.



Ring them bells St. Peter

Where the four winds blow,

Ring them bells with an iron hand

So the people will know.

Oh it's rush hour now

On the wheel and the plow

And the sun is going down

Upon the sacred cow.



Ring them bells Sweet Martha,

For the poor man's son,

Ring them bells so the world will know

That God is one.

Oh the shepherd is asleep

Where the willows weep

And the mountains are filled

With lost sheep.



Ring them bells for the blind and the deaf,

Ring them bells for all of us who are left,

Ring them bells for the chosen few

Who will judge the many when the game is through.

Ring them bells, for the time that flies,

For the child that cries

When innocence dies.



Ring them bells St. Catherine

From the top of the room,

Ring them from the fortress

For the lilies that bloom.

Oh the lines are long

And the fighting is strong

And they're breaking down the distance

Between right and wrong