“Look to! Treble’s going…she’s gone.”

I’d cry the time-honoured words when I was young,

my voice a boyish chirrup. Everyone

around me on the belfry floor where hung

the bell-ropes were grown-ups, so it was grand

to lead-off when the peal of church bells swung

to clattering action with the six-strong band

following after, letting fly our ropes,

those woolly sallies...

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