O gentle bell, which rests within the tower;
The clock is wound to guard each sleeping hour,
Upon the Johnshill Brae where birds take flight, O Presence, Keep us sober, safe, tonight.
O shadows long, which cast upon the gates, Darkened thoughts of hopes deferred and hate, Love, illuminate my thought with golden threads, And give me purer, higher, better paths to tread.
Of youth who drink and dance upon the tombs, Amidst the birds as sunset hour looms, Gentle Thing who always knows me best, Keep me here within your gentle breast.
If your old brow does gusts of snow impart , A wintry breeze does surely hit the heart, Love, show me snowdrops during that cold spell, And fill my ears with dear Auld Simon´s bell.