When I was small – many many years ago – I sang a song to the Westminster chimes on my grandfather’s grandfather clock. I’m not sure where I learned the lyrics, but I think maybe it was from a beginner’s book of piano lessons. In any case the last two lines were (at least approximately)
From its high tower
Strikes out the hour.
Nobody I’ve asked can supply me with the first two lines. Nor do they even recall ever hearing such a song. Any help?
I once saw the lyrics “Ding dong dong ding / hear the chimes ring / From the high tower / All hark the hour”. I think that you’re correct about it being in a book of piano lessons… John Thompson’s Modern Graded Course?
Of course, if we’re both remembering the same source, then this doesn’t really add any additional support.
When I was a wee thing in the Brownie Guides (oh my god how they’ve changed !) we used to end each 'meeting ’ with a prayer sung to the tune of the Westminster chimes - something aloing the lines of “Oh lord our God, hear our call, grant us they peace, and bless us all”.
Ah, yes, I see that Cat Jones has the same Brownie Guide experience as I did. (I still don’t know why we worshpied and jumped over a large model of amanita muscaria. Most odd.)
“O Lord our God,
thy children call
grant us thy peace
and bless us all”
NOTE - Other answers have nailed the real words - this is jsut one that I expect all Brownies had to put up with.
The real lyrics are not a symphony, rather a set of pieces known as Handel’s Messiah many know from Christmas time performances in many churches.
The first stanza is:
I know that my
redeemer liveth
The verse that many quote as from the Brownie guidebook come later in the piece.
The lyrics are not from The Messiah. The TUNE is a variation on a portion of the aria “I Know That My Redeemer Liveth” from The Messiah. The lyrics to that aria are, in full:
As Cecil pointed out in the column linked. Since when do we not simply defer to the Perfect Master on this site when he has already answered a factual question for us? :dubious:
As in that wondrous old poem which comforted us as scared little children
And the people–ah, the people-- They that dwell up in the steeple, All alone, And who, tolling, tolling, tolling, In that muffled monotone, Feel a glory in so rolling On the human heart a stone-- They are neither man nor woman-- They are neither brute nor human-- They are Ghouls:-- And their king it is who tolls ; And he rolls, rolls, rolls, rolls, Rolls A pæan from the bells! And his merry bosom swells With the pæan of the bells! And he dances, and he yells ; Keeping time, time, time, In a sort of Runic rhyme, To the pæan of the bells-- Of the bells