the bells of san blas are still rung by hand
hand over hand the child climbs the tower
hammer in hand he rings out the hour
and all of the children are called to the rail
are called to the virgin, the cross and the nail
outside of the cathedral, caught in photograph
begins the procession, thy rod and thy staff

a lavender bead was found in the dust
lost from the chain that had crossed the gown
the pride of the family, the pride of the town
at fifteen years old the procession shall move
and fit into the church as the hand fits the glove
and out come the children chasing the rice
if they ever think once, they never think twice

sister anastasia came down from the clouds
from the city of angels to the city of bells
she offered her solace, she offered her help
she taught them the handcrafts, she taught them to smile
to sell to the tourists to help feed the child
the design of the snake caught in the beak
she came every year and stayed for a week

the bells of san blas were all made by hand
and carried by hand they spread 'long the coast
the bells of the missions of longfellow's ghost
the cannon are rusted, the bells have turned green
they traded their gold and their land for the beads
of the spaniards and indians the children remain
they still sacrifice virgins though the altar's renamed