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(learned orally and from Sing Out in the 1960s)

(staff with melody)

What will you give me, say the sad bells of Rhymney.
Is there hope for the future, cry the brown bells of Merthyr.
Who made the mine owner, say the black bells of Rhondda.
And who robbed the miner, cry the grim bells of Blaina.

They will plunder willy-nilly, say the bells of Cairfilly.
They have fangs, they have teeth, shout the loud bells of Neath.
To the south things are sullen, say the pink bells of Brecon.
Even God is uneasy, cry the moist bells of Swansea.

Throw the vandals in court, say the bells of Newport.
All will be well if-if-if-if-if, cry the green bells of Cardiff.
Why so worried, sisters, why? sang the silver bells of Wye.
And what shall I give thee, say the sad bells of Rhymney.

(from miriam berg's folksong collection)