The Bells of San Juan

The bell of San Vicente, deep
rousing saints out of their sleep;
throughout the mottled history
of Capistrano by the sea

The swallows are gone
but the bells of San Juan
are still buried
flaked and serried

The Spanish and the Portuguese
brought Jesus Christ and olive trees
and built a church of mud and stone
naïve to how the earth could groan

Father Serra consecrated
holy ground - the soldiers waited;
the curious Juaneños came
to see the flag that laid them claim

The bell of old San Juan intones
the sins for which we must atone;
throughout the mottled history
of Capistrano by the sea

The swallows are gone
but the bells of San Juan
are still broken
splitting open

The Spanish and the Portuguese
brought their wine press and disease
and built a church of mud and stone
with walls that strained beneath the dome

converting chiefs to neophytes
by marshal law and sacred rites;
saved by grace but made to plow,
to worship with their back and brow

The bell of San Antonio
calls out as we come and go;
throughout the mottled history
of Capistrano by the sea

The swallows are gone
but the bells of San Juan
are still ringing
struck to singing

The Spanish and the Portuguese
brought tallow vats and rosaries
and saw their church of mud and stone
come crashing down upon their own

where Magdalena, by the light
of the moon still walks at night
reciting her repentant prayer
since all the padres left her there

The blessed bell of San Rafael
we’ve hung it high and swung it well;
throughout the mottled history
of Capistrano by the sea

The swallows are gone
but the bells of San Juan
in the garden
plead a pardon

yes the swallows are gone
and the bells of San Juan
know the story
tarnished glory