When the strife is over;
From here to the shores of Dover,
There will be bells ringing;
To accompany the people's singing.

Before this happens, people will be crying;
At the sad message of loved ones dying.
Others will be quietly sighing,
When thoughts of those lying,
So cold and still,
Out on a lonely hill,
Somewhere far away;
Or on a desolate cove or bay.

Battle is so dark and dreary;
And those strange noises, so weary.
The bullets are passing over the heads,
Of those already dead.

The battle loudly ends;
Many shouts, the men upward send.
Yes, there will be joy and singing,
While the freedom bells are ringing.