Cloisters echoing to the sound of millions of feet
All nationalities wondering round hopes and dreams complete
Tinglings through my soul who has trod this way before
Holy sounds from the naive, monks singing behind a door.
Ever moving ever flowing like a river the people tread
Dodging gravestones in the floor, don’t step on the dead
Relics yes, in golden caskets, fabulous statues to saints
Angels fierce with swords resplendent in gold leaf and paints
Lingering spirits of the past repose here in the Cathedral