Oh what can 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,
Cry the bells of Caerphilly.
They have fangs, they have teeth,
Say the loud bells of Neathe.
Even God is uneasy,
Say the moist bells of Swansea.
They will plunder willy-nilly,
Say the bells of Caerphilly.

Put the vandals in court,
Say the bells of Newport.
All would be well if, if, if,
Cry the green bells of Cardiff.
Why so worried, sisters, why?
Sang the silver bells of Wye.
And what will you give me?
Say the sad bells of Rhymney.

Copyright: Universal Music Publishing Group
Writer(s): WOODY GUTHRIE