This poem is meant to be read aloud slowly and ponderously.
The words don't mean much, it is the feel of the sound
that am striving to achieve.
With a "BANG" and a "CLANG" and a "BONG" and a "CLONG"
A cart full of bells, had ambled on.
With a sway and a lurch, it came from a church,
Where the burned out timbers were made of birch.
Well a horse, of course, had pulled the wagon.
But its pace was slow, and its tail was draggin'.
Higher and higher, the burning fire,
became the town's funeral pyre.
With a "CLONG" and a "BONG" and a "BANG" and a "CLANG",
each bell on the cart, solemly rang.