Quasimodo gave a name
To all the bells of Notre Dame
Empowering them to toll
And sound the depths of every soul
In deafness waiting
Feeling through bells reverberating
That somewhere out beyond his tower
There was one.
There was one
Waking the sun with her flower and
Little white goat with bell tinkling
Following capering frolicking
In the meadows of her gypsy soul
Condemned to hang on the gallows.
And now no bell remembers
They had names.