Beneath the light of a bright starry night
Sang a lonely little Indian maid:
“No lover’s sweet serenade
Has ever won me.”
As in a dream, it would seem, down the stream,
Gaily paddling his tiny canoe,
A chieftain longing to woo
Sang her this song:
“Your voice is ringing, my Silver Bell,
Under it’s spell
I’ve come to tell you of the love I am bringing
O’er hill and dell,
Happy we’ll dwell, my Silver Bell.”
For many moons, many spoons, many tunes
Woke the echoes of the still Summer night,
As down the stream gleaming bright
They floated dreaming.
In his canoe, only two, sat to woo,
And they listened to the sigh of the breeze,
That seemed to sing in the trees
This sweet refrain:
Wenrich, Percy; Madden, Edward; and Danmark, Ribé, "Silver Bell" (1911). Historic Sheet Music Collection. 1679.
The views expressed in this paper are solely those of the author.