A Maytime Poetic Interlude: London Bells

Browsing through the ‘One City One Book’ poetry book, If Ever You Go brought to my mind last year’s birthday present from my daughter. She chose to buy me the new edition of Poems on the Underground, which I have been picking up to read every so often. For this edition, the editors have decided to collect poems into themed sections including The Darker Side, The Artist as ‘Maker’, Exile and Loss and The Wider World. All of the poems in the anthology have been featured on the London Underground poetry posters at some point since the project began in 1986. My smart new edition was published to coincide with the 150th anniversary of the famous underground.

Poems on the Underground

Poetry in Motion

It seemed appropriate to follow on from April’s Dublin theme, with a poem from the section on London. I have chosen one from that ever-prolific poet Anonymous, as a nod towards my last #PoetryinJune blog post in 2013 when he/she insisted on sneaking in to close the series. Another reason for choosing this lighthearted London poem is that many of you probably remember it from childhood (or at least a version of it).  According to a Wikipedia article the following version first appeared in Tommy Thumb’s Pretty Song Book, c 1774 (but with ‘ye’ rather than ‘the’). An excellent source of information about nursery rhymes is Iona and Peter Opie’s The Oxford Dictionary of Nursery Rhymes (Oxford University Press), though I’m not sure if it’s still in print. I thought I had a copy tucked away somewhere but it must have been wishful thinking on my part. I think I’m right in saying that Iona and Peter Opie’s work on British nursery rhymes and childhood lore in general is the best source available. 

 

London Bells

Two sticks and an apple,
Ring the bells at Whitechapel

Old Father Bald Pate,
Ring the bells at Aldgate

Maids in white aprons,
Ring the bells at St Catherine’s.

Oranges and lemons,
Ring the bells at St Clement’s.

When will you pay me?
Ring the bells at the Old Bailey.

When I am rich,
Ring the bells at Fleetditch

When will that be?
Ring the bells at Stepney.

When I am old,
Ring the great bell at Paul’s.

 

This is the version that I grew up with; the last bell was sung to represent a very deep, slow, imposing peal:

Oranges and Lemons

Oranges and Lemons

Oranges and lemons,
Say the bells of St. Clement’s.

You owe me five farthings,
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.

When will that be?
Say the bells of Stepney.

I do not know,
Says the great bell of Bow.

Here comes a candle to light you to bed,
And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!

The Wikipedia article I’ve linked above suggests some meanings behind the rhyme and also quotes yet another version of it. We used to play the game illustrated in this nineteenth century plate, when you went round and round and got your head ‘chopped off’ if you were too slow. It’s strange how you play games as a child without ever really thinking about what the words or rituals mean. But let’s not get into too much blood thirsty stuff now, as I shall be off to bed shortly and don’t want to be dreaming of the dark doings in the Tower of London.

So, altogether now:

Here comes a candle…

 

A Poem by Anonymous ?

For the last of my #PoetryinJune features I thought that I would feature a poem from that ever prolific versifier Anonymous (often shortened to Anon). Not only prolific but of amazing longevity, Anonymous has penned poems, songs, ditties and doggerel on a variety of subjects for several centuries. His/her versatility is truly legendary in poetic circles, therefore it is not really surprising that no anthology is complete without at least a couple of verses by the writer known as Anonymous.

I therefore browsed though an anthology, Other Men’s Flowers edited by A.P. Wavell (Cape 1944, 1958). This is a rather nice reprint of the memorial edition of Wavell’s book, complete with red slip-case, bought from a book fair about twenty years ago. After much indecision amongst the ‘Anons’ I chose the nonsense poem below, partly because I have always liked it and partly because a pair of cormorants nest on top of an old chimney on a nearby stretch of the River Dodder. We often see them in the spring but sadly have never yet been able ascertain whether they do indeed lay their eggs in a paper bag. The chimney is rather tall you see.

Birds, Bags, Bears, and Buns

Book cover in blue leather binding

Other Men’s Flowers

The common cormorant or shag
Lays eggs inside a paper bag.
The reason you will see, no doubt,
It is to keep the lightening out,
But what these unobservant birds
Have never noticed is that herds
Of wandering bears may come with buns
And steal the bags to hold the crumbs.

Now comes the rub. On browsing the internet to see whether I could find out more about this poem, I discovered that poem has been attributed to Christopher Isherwood. Wikipedia say that it was in Poems Past and Present and they reference a 1959 (fourth printing) edition from J.M. Dent and Sons (Canada) Ltd. What puzzles me somewhat is how the poem came to be attributed to ‘Anon’ in the first place if it indeed by Isherwood.

If anyone out there can offer any concrete information on this poem’s history, I would love to hear about it. I hope you have enjoyed this month’s trawl through The Landing poetry books on the TBR (or not read for a long time) Pile. Thanks for the comments and likes posted up – I appreciate the contact.

See you soon!