the bells of san blas are still rung by hand   hand over hand the child climbs the tower   hammer in hand he rings out the hour   and all of the children are called to the rail   are called to the virgin, the cross and the nail   outside of the cathedral, caught in photograph   begins the procession, thy rod and thy staff      a lavender bead was found in the dust   lost from the chain that had crossed the gown   the pride of the family, the pride of the town   at fifteen years old the procession shall move   and fit into the church as the hand fits the glove   and out come the children chasing the rice   if they ever think once, they never think twice      sister anastasia came down from the clouds   from the city of angels to the city of bells   she offered her solace, she offered her help   she taught them the handcrafts, she taught them to smile   to sell to the tourists to help feed the child   the design of the snake caught in the beak   she came every year and stayed for a week      the bells of san blas were all made by hand   and carried by hand they spread 'long the coast   the bells of the missions of longfellow's ghost   the cannon are rusted, the bells have turned green   they traded their gold and their land for the beads   of the spaniards and indians the children remain   they still sacrifice virgins though the altar's renamed