Is damp with the death of some thousand men odd,
Till the populace smiles with a gratified nod
(Oh, dangle ding dongle dong dingle ding dee.)
If Tirpitz behaves like a brute on the brine
(Oh, dingle dong dangle ding dongle ding dee,)
The bells with a clash and a clamor combine
To hint that the Hated One's on the decline,
And the city gulps down the good tidings like wine,
(Oh, dangle ding dongle dong dingle ding dee.)
The Bells of Berlin, are they cracked through and through