Poem: For Whom the Bell Knells

'Little Church on a Hill' Painting - Janet Bragg

For Whom the Bell Knells

Midnight fell and all was still,

The bell didn’t knell from the church on the hill,

The people in town wondered what could be wrong,

So, they marched up the hill in a chattering throng,

The church bell was rung by a man McFee,

It’s all that he’d done since 1903,

A mighty old man, was old man McFee,

Strong as an ox and tall as a tree,

That’s why he was good at knelling the bell,

He gave a good yank; he did it quite well,

When the people in town had climbed up the hill,

They found old McFee; he was lying quite still,

It seems he had died on his way to the church,

His heart just gave out leaving them in the lurch,

But as they stood stunned at the loss of McFee,

The church bell rang out as loud as can be,

The bats in the belfry flew this way and that,

A mouse skittered by being chased by a cat,

The clouds swirled around in a ghostly parade,

Shadows played tricks in this eerie charade,

From that day ‘til now the bell has still rung,

It might be McFee just having some fun;

A ghostly old angel who’s finally been sprung.