Up in the bell tower
Over yonder way
They ring for the hour
Of twelve on God’s days

Upon the carillon
Guised in a garb pitch dark
A man plays a song
Which sets a mood so stark

Today we mourn the death
Of the beloved whom we hold
Lost in body, taken from breath
Life is purely gold

Tomorrow is celebration
We bring upon us birth!
Though not death’s justification
We welcome new life to Earth.

The man upon the bells is gast
But he plays our theme for the present
Though we shall ne’er forget the past
He rules our day, for we are his mere peasants

The beautiful enchantment of the carillon
And the wild entrancement it carries on
We fall in love, we mourn, we smile
We hear its song, we’re soon beguiled

Who is this man?
What is his name?
He must be man,
He must be famed!

But all we know is that up in that tower
Over yonder way
At the twelfth hour
A black-garbed phantom will tell us who we are and what we feel today.