“Oranges
and lemons,”
Say the bells of St. Clement’s.
“You
owe me five fathings,”
Say the bells of St. Martin’s.
“When
will you pay me?”
Say the bells of Old Bailey.
“When
I grow rich,”
Say the bells of Shoreditch.
“Pray,
when will that be?”
Say the bells of Stepney.
“I’m
sure I don’t know,”
Says the great bell at Bow.
Here
come the candle
To light you to bed.
Here
comes a chopper
To chop off your head. |