A plain course of Plain Bob Minor, six bells, struck slowly, in D.
There is no tune here and nobody wrote one. Six bells fall down the scale — and then refuse to stay that way. Each pair steps past its neighbour, one place per row, never repeating a row, until sixty changes later they arrive back at the top of the scale as though nothing had happened at all.
Pick a bell. Follow the gold. That thread is the only thing a ringer memorises; everything else is rope, and patience, and standing very still.