“Gay go up and gay go downTo ring the bells of London Town.Oranges and lemons,Say the bells of St. Clement’s.Bull’s eyes and targets,Say the bells of St. Marg’ret’s.Brickbats and tiles,Say the bells of St. Giles’.Halfpence and farthings,Say the bells of St. Martin’s.Pancakes and fritters,Say the bells of St. Peter’s.Two sticks and an apple,Say the bells of Whitechapel.Pokers and tongs,Say the bells of St. John’s.Kettles and pans,Say the bells of St. Ann’s.Old Father Baldpate,Say the slow bells of Aldgate.You owe me ten shillings,Say the bells of St. Helen’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 do not know,Says the great bell of Bow.Gay go up and gay go downTo ring the bells of London Town.”
“Gay go up and gay go downTo ring the bells of London Town.Oranges and lemons,Say the bells of St. Clement’s.Bull’s eyes and targets,Say the bells of St. Marg’ret’s.Brickbats and tiles,Say the bells of St. Giles’.Halfpence and farthings,Say the bells of St. Martin’s.Pancakes and fritters,Say the bells of St. Peter’s.Two sticks and an apple,Say the bells of Whitechapel.Pokers and tongs,Say the bells of St. John’s.Kettles and pans,Say the bells of St. Ann’s.Old Father Baldpate,Say the slow bells of Aldgate.You owe me ten shillings,Say the bells of St. Helen’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 do not know,Says the great bell of Bow.Gay go up and gay go downTo ring the bells of London Town.”
“Gay go up and gay go downTo ring the bells of London Town.
“Gay go up and gay go down
To ring the bells of London Town.
Oranges and lemons,Say the bells of St. Clement’s.
Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clement’s.
Bull’s eyes and targets,Say the bells of St. Marg’ret’s.
Bull’s eyes and targets,
Say the bells of St. Marg’ret’s.
Brickbats and tiles,Say the bells of St. Giles’.
Brickbats and tiles,
Say the bells of St. Giles’.
Halfpence and farthings,Say the bells of St. Martin’s.
Halfpence and farthings,
Say the bells of St. Martin’s.
Pancakes and fritters,Say the bells of St. Peter’s.
Pancakes and fritters,
Say the bells of St. Peter’s.
Two sticks and an apple,Say the bells of Whitechapel.
Two sticks and an apple,
Say the bells of Whitechapel.
Pokers and tongs,Say the bells of St. John’s.
Pokers and tongs,
Say the bells of St. John’s.
Kettles and pans,Say the bells of St. Ann’s.
Kettles and pans,
Say the bells of St. Ann’s.
Old Father Baldpate,Say the slow bells of Aldgate.
Old Father Baldpate,
Say the slow bells of Aldgate.
You owe me ten shillings,Say the bells of St. Helen’s.
You owe me ten shillings,
Say the bells of St. Helen’s.
When will you pay me?Say the bells of Old Bailey.
When will you pay me?
Say the bells of Old Bailey.
When I grow rich,Say the bells of Shoreditch.
When I grow rich,
Say the bells of Shoreditch.
Pray when will that be?Say the bells of Stepney.
Pray when will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.
I do not know,Says the great bell of Bow.
I do not know,
Says the great bell of Bow.
Gay go up and gay go downTo ring the bells of London Town.”
Gay go up and gay go down
To ring the bells of London Town.”
Never again could Betty think of London as a dull, dreary place, for though she continued to forget how she actually got back into the Past, she kept a picture in her mind of London through the ages.
There was the Roman city, with its fortress and its market-place filled with the British people the Romans had conquered. Then the city of the Middle Ages, inhabited by a different race—the English race—the little city with its gabled houses encircled by fields and woods. Next came the city of Elizabeth’s day, richer and bigger now, with its ships floating up to London Bridge, its beautiful “Chepe” or market-place crowded with prosperous people.
Again she saw it a heap of ruins in Restoration days, with only a few of its buildings remaining after the Great Fire that swept it clean. Her next glimpse of it showed her London two hundred and fifty years after the Fire—a different London, of broader streets, and plainer and more healthy dwellings, with churches and public buildings, different altogether in architecture from those of the Middle Ages, or of the days of Elizabeth. Finally there was the London of her own day, the huge city of streets and factories and big modern buildings, among which there still lingered not only many rows of seventeenth-and eighteenth-century houses and many churches and other public buildings dating from the time when London rose from its ashes after the Great Fire, but also buildings far, far older than these. There was the Tower; there was Westminster Abbey; there was Westminster Hall. These had looked down for ages upon the city by the Thames, and watched it through its many changes from early times to the day in which Betty herself lived.
But apart from these three ancient monuments, she couldscarcely now walk through any part of modern London without seeing something—if only the name of a street, which recalled a memory of the Past. London had, in fact, become for her what Godmother had once called it—the Magic City.
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