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Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing


Related threads:
(origins) Origins: Hang on the Bell, Nellie (28)
Lyr Req: Hang on the Bell, Nelly? / ...Nellie (8) (closed)
Lyr Req: Nellie (6) (closed)

GUEST 01 Oct 13 - 04:30 PM
Mo the caller 01 Oct 13 - 05:52 PM
Mo the caller 01 Oct 13 - 05:57 PM
Joe Offer 02 Oct 13 - 12:30 AM
Joe Offer 02 Oct 13 - 01:01 AM
dick greenhaus 02 Oct 13 - 10:27 AM
GUEST 18 Oct 13 - 12:38 PM
GUEST 13 Nov 13 - 12:31 AM
GUEST,Rhonda 31 Jul 15 - 11:25 PM
GUEST 30 Oct 16 - 10:10 AM
GUEST,Mz. B from Beseemer Al 13 Nov 16 - 07:14 PM
GUEST 08 May 17 - 03:52 PM
Long Firm Freddie 09 May 17 - 11:25 AM
GUEST,Roosevelt 16 Feb 18 - 03:50 PM
GUEST,Ebor Fiddler 18 Feb 18 - 06:59 PM
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Subject: RE: Call and Response songs - gospel
Date: 01 Oct 13 - 04:30 PM

I am trying to find the old gospel song where the mother held on to the bell to stop it from ringing 3 times to save her son from dying who made it and who is it song by

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Subject: RE: Call and Response songs - gospel
From: Mo the caller
Date: 01 Oct 13 - 05:52 PM

The only song I know like that is a music hall song 'Hang on the Bell Nellie'. Remembered from our family Christmas dinner table singing, we sang this one for Auntie Nellie.

Hang on the bell Nellie
Hang on the bell
Your poor Daddy's locked in a cold prison cell.

As you swing to the left
And swing to the right
Remember that the curfew must never ring tonight.

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Subject: RE: Call and Response songs - gospel
From: Mo the caller
Date: 01 Oct 13 - 05:57 PM

The verse is here

I don't know when it was written, though the link says who recorded it.

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Subject: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: Joe Offer
Date: 02 Oct 13 - 12:30 AM

Note from Joe Offer: Mo linked to a mirror of the Digital Tradition. The original is right here at Mudcat, [Click]

But I don't think our guest is looking for "Hang on the Bell." I have a vague memory of the requested song because I was struck by the similarities with "Nellie."


P.S. I moved the request and responses to a new thread.

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: Joe Offer
Date: 02 Oct 13 - 01:01 AM

From here:

    From Graphic Stories for Boys and Girls — published in England in the 1800's --- A series of morality stories -- stories of interest for children, youths, and even adults.

    THERE'S an odd little voice ever speaking within,
    That prompts us to duty, and warns us from sin;
    And, what is most strange, it will make itself heard,
    Though it gives not a sound, and says never a word.

    * * * * *


    Many years ago it was the custom in England to have a bell rung at nightfall, as a signal for the people to cover up their fires and put out their lights. The custom was established by William the Conqueror, and the bell thus rung was called the curfew. The following story relates to an event that happened in those early times.

    It was in an English village. The sun was sinking, the shadows were deepening towards night, and in the jail there sat a prisoner. He was a robust, noble man, yet the shadows meant to him the approach of death. He was good, brave, and young, yet he was condemned to be hanged.

    The people of the place knew and loved him, and there was a whisper that friends with soldiers were coming to deliver him; but if they should not come before the curfew tolled he would be a dead man, for the judges had said, "Hang him at the curfew." All the people of the village sat in their houses sorrowful, all save one girl of eighteen years. She stood in the long street, wretched, and alone, and watching, hardly knowing what she should do.

    The old sexton who had rung the bell at sunset for seventy years would soon be going his way to ring it; and at its slow bing, bang, the jailer would lead out the young prisoner to die. His orders were, "At the ringing of the curfew."

    The girl, almost crazed with grief at the thought of the fate that was to befall her sweetheart, had come to a desperate resolve. She was waiting for the sexton. Would he listen to her? Oh, he must! he must! It was a merciless law, and must be broken at any cost. She was only a cottage girl, but she would conquer the law. "It shall not ring," she said to herself.

    The crimson clouds were all fading in the west, and steadily sank the sun. A moment of terrible silence fell on the village.

    The jailer had gone to the prison; and now the sexton turned out and limped his way towards the church.

    The girl walked up to the sexton's side.

    "Oh, sexton, you must not, you must not--- you shall not ring!" she pleaded, wringing her hands, her eyes red and swollen with hot, scalding tears.

    The deaf old sexton shook his head, and moved on towards the church tower. "I must do my duty, girl," he said; "I must do my duty."

    Every step of the way towards that dreadful door she pleaded and wept. To be hanged herself would seem as nothing compared with his being hanged!

    "It is wicked! You shall not! Oh, you shall not! They'll hang him!" she cried, as the sexton put his hand on the belfry door.

    He was deaf to pity; he pushed her away, and proceeded to open the door. The despairing girl's eyes fell upon the rope that pulled the bell. Then the dim shape of a ladder gleamed on her sight. It was the ladder to the bell-chamber. Swift as the flash of her thought she darted up while the old man was fumbling about, and when he turned she was gone. By ladder after ladder she reached the chamber where the big bell hung.

    With the frenzy of a hope which in a second might be too late, she sprang at the tongue hanging above her head, and clung with the grip of desperation. She lifted herself higher, twining her soft arms tightly round its big iron ball, her heart throbbing with fear lest she should lose her hold when the great bell should swing.

    The rope began to move, the beam to roll, and the bell to toss. It struck her head, but she would not have heeded it had it tortured her to death, Her care was, had the curfew rung.

    Again the beam turned, again the bell swung, and this time her limbs touched the great iron sides. Had the bell rung? She thought not. Once again the rope was pulled, and again the bell rolled, and again her limbs dashed against the cold sides. Her ears were clear; she listened, it was mute. A hum, not louder than the hum of a bee in a flower, and not heard any further, mingled with the creaking of the old beams of the tower.

    The three pulls were finished! Still she hung on. Would he pull once more? Listening, she faintly heard below, the old sexton go out and the tower door close behind him. He did not know the bell had never sounded. At once she relaxed her bleeding arms and hands, and dropped to her feet. The chamber swam and the tower reeled. She staggered for a moment, then felt her way slowly down ladder after ladder, and let herself timidly out into the twilight.

    All was still in the jail. The jailer, waiting, breathless, listened for the curfew. The young prisoner stood with hands tied. The villagers heard their own hearts beat as they awaited the first stroke of the fatal bell. Would somebody tell the old sexton that the curfew had not rung? She was in agony.

    Suddenly was heard in the distance the sound of horses' feet. All eyes were turned towards the hill above the village. Winding along its slope appeared a company of troops with Cromwell at its head. Swift as a swallow the girl darted towards the leader, and throwing herself at his feet, begged the life of her sweetheart. She told her whole story and showed her bleeding hands. Cromwell was touched with the sad, worn face of the heroic girl, and tears dimmed his eyes. With great tenderness he told the girl her sweetheart was safe, and handed her a pardon.

    With flying steps she rushed back to the prison and thrust the pardon into the jailer's hands. In a few moments the girl and her sweetheart were locked in each other's arms. Years after, the old people still told their children of that night on which the curfew never rang. - End of Story

    * * * * *
    Ring out, wild bells, to the wild sky,
    The flying cloud, the frosty light;
    The year is dying in the night
    Ring out, wild bells, and let him die.
    Ring out the old, ring in the new,
    Ring, happy bells, across the snow;
    The year is going let him go;
    Ring out the false, ring in the true.
    Ring in the valiant man and free,
    The larger heart, the kindlier hand;
    Ring out the darkness of the land,
    Ring in the Christ that is to be.--- Tennyson

Also see: "The Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight" -

...but that's not it, either.

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Subject: ADD: Curfew Must Not Ring Tonight (Thorpe)
From: dick greenhaus
Date: 02 Oct 13 - 10:27 AM

Here's the Victorian poem that "hang on the Bell, Nelly" parodied:

(Rose Hartwick Thorpe, 1867)

Slowly England's sun was setting o'er the hilltops far away,
Filling all the land with beauty at the close of one sad day;
And its last rays kissed the forehead of a man and maiden fair,--
He with steps so slow and weary; she with sunny, floating hair;
He with bowed head, sad and thoughtful, she, with lips all cold and white,
Struggling to keep back the murmur, "Curfew must not ring to-night!"

"Sexton," Bessie's white lips faltered, pointing to the prison old,
With its walls tall and gloomy, moss-grown walls dark, damp and cold,--
"I've a lover in the prison, doomed this very night to die
At the ringing of the curfew, and no earthly help is nigh.
Cromwell will not come till sunset;" and her lips grew strangely white,
As she spoke in husky whispers, "Curfew must not ring to-night!"

"Bessie," calmly spoke the sexton (every word pierced her young heart
Like a gleaming death-winged arrow, like a deadly poisoned dart),
"Long, long years I've rung the curfew from that gloomy, shadowed tower;
Every evening, just at sunset, it has tolled the twilight hour.
I have done my duty ever, tried to do it just and right:
Now I'm old, I will not miss it. Curfew bell must ring to-night!"

Wild her eyes and pale her features, stern and white her thoughtful brow,
As within her secret bosom, Bessie made a solemn vow.
She had listened while the judges read, without a tear or sigh,
"At the ringing of the curfew, Basil Underwood must "die.
And her breath came fast and faster, and her eyes grew large and bright;
One low murmur, faintly spoken. "Curfew must not ring to-night!"

She with quick step bounded forward, sprang within the old church-door,
Left the old man coming slowly, paths he'd trod so oft before.
Not one moment paused the maiden, But with eye and cheek aglow,
Staggered up the gloomy tower, Where the bell swung to and fro;
As she climbed the slimy ladder, On which fell no ray of light,
Upward still, her pale lips saying, "Curfew shall not ring to-night!"

She has reached the topmost ladder, o'er her hangs the great dark bell;
Awful is the gloom beneath her, like the pathway down to hell.
See! the ponderous tongue is swinging; 'tis the hour of curfew now,
And the sight has chilled her bosom, stopped her breath, and paled her brow.
Shall she let it ring? No, never! Her eyes flash with sudden light,
As she springs, and grasps it firmly: "Curfew shall not ring to-night!"

Out she swung,-- far out. The city Seemed a speck of light below,--
There twixt heaven and earth suspended, As the bell swung to and fro.
And the sexton at the bell-rope, old and deaf, heard not the bell,
Sadly thought that twilight curfew rang young Basil's funeral knell.
"Still the maiden, clinging firmly, quivering lip and fair face white,
Stilled her frightened heart's wild throbbing: "Curfew shall not ring tonight!"

It was o'er, the bell ceased swaying; and the maiden stepped once more
Firmly on the damp old ladder, where, for hundred years before,
Human foot had not been planted. The brave deed that she had done
Should be told long ages after. As the rays of setting sun
Light the sky with golden beauty, aged sires, with heads of white,
Tell the children why the curfew did not ring that one sad night.

O'er the distant hills comes Cromwell. Bessie sees him; and her brow,
Lately white with sickening horror, has no anxious traces now.
At his feet she tells her story, shows her hands, all bruised and torn;
And her sweet young face, still hagggard, with the anguish it had worn,
Touched his heart with sudden pity, lit his eyes with misty light.
"Go! your lover lives," said Cromwell. "Curfew shall not ring to-night!"

Wide they flung the massive portals, led the prisoner forth to die,
All his bright young life before him. Neath the darkening English sky,
Bessie came, with flying footsteps, eyes aglow with lovelight sweet;
Kneeling on the turf beside him, laid his pardon at his feet.
In his brave, strong arms he clasped her, kissed the face upturned and white,
Whispered, "Darling, you have saved me, curfew will not ring to-night."

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
Date: 18 Oct 13 - 12:38 PM

The song was sung my the mighty clouds os joy

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
Date: 13 Nov 13 - 12:31 AM

Lee Williams and Spiritual QC's - Love will go all the way

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: GUEST,Rhonda
Date: 31 Jul 15 - 11:25 PM

Love will go all the way by Lee Williams and the Spiritual QC's.

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
Date: 30 Oct 16 - 10:10 AM

The song is Bright Side by The Mighty Clouds Of Joy.

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: GUEST,Mz. B from Beseemer Al
Date: 13 Nov 16 - 07:14 PM

To RHONDA That's it Lee Williams Love will go all the way .... Thank you sooo much ....Great!!!!

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
Date: 08 May 17 - 03:52 PM

No. they may have had a version but its a Shirley Ceasar song

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: Long Firm Freddie
Date: 09 May 17 - 11:25 AM

Sheet music for a setting of the original poem is here:



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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: GUEST,Roosevelt
Date: 16 Feb 18 - 03:50 PM

The song is Bright Side by the Mighty Clouds Of Joy.

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Subject: RE: Gospel song: Mom stopping bell ringing
From: GUEST,Ebor Fiddler
Date: 18 Feb 18 - 06:59 PM

Momma don't allow no Bell Ringin' In Here?

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