Volunteers commune with well-drilled choreography,
pulling together to uphold an Anglican tradition: campanology.
Gigantic bells swing above them in strict time, ringing historic peals for a nation
as the mighty cathedral vibrates to chimes of celebration.
Now the bells are silent; a symphony of sound muffled.
The Dean & Chapter’s ecclesiastical feathers are ruffled.
Clashing with bell-ringers, like clappers on steel,
they have decided to bring them to heel.
Now there’s discord where once was harmony,
a clanger’s been dropped on the York Minster family.
“When will the bells toll again?” is the woebegone cry.
Only when the strife-torn church is able to mollify.
It is traditional for worshippers to be summoned by bells, particularly on a Sunday. However, there’s discord in the bell tower at York Minster, pictured. One wonders what the Victorian novelist Anthony Trollop would have made of it.