The Bell-Man

Along the dark and silent night, With my lantern and my light And the tinkling of my bell, Thus I walk, and this I tell: —Death and dreadfulness call on To the general session; To whose dismal bar, we there All accounts must come to clear: Scores of sins we've made here many; Wiped out few, God knows, if any. Rise, ye debtors, then, and fall To make payment, while I call: Ponder this, when I am gone: —By the clock 'tis almost One.