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sisters & sparrows

Poetry. Photography. Life.

Packed day of washing, tidying, essay writing and a couple of exhausting hours house-hunting with EJD.  I’d forgotten how gruelling it is to find the right place to live, especially when you’re students, and there’s only a couple of you.  Still, we kept up our spirits by singing carols, loudly, regardless of how it’s still November.  Anyway, tomorrow I am going to London! for the weekend.  I’ve only been a few times before.  We’re doing some kind of urban treasure hunt which I think will be fun (although freezing).

Happily, the visit will coincide with a poetry assignment to write a poem about the city.  Good job, otherwise I would’ve had to have trekked over to the sparkling, marvellous, Coventry, that 60s concrete playground.

Here’s one London poem.

London Bells

Two sticks and an apple,
Ring the bells at Whitechapel. 

Old Father Bald Pate,
Ring the bells 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 of Stepney.

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

Anon. (Early 18th Century)
If you’re from England, you’ll remember it from when you were a kid.  Although it’s a bit different to the version which I used to sing.  That used to scare me stiff, because it ended:
“Here comes a Candle to light you to Bed
Here comes a Chopper to Chop off your Head
Chip chop chip chop – the Last Man’s Dead.”

This site reveals the history to the original and the addition.  Got to love a bit of British history… it’s always surprisingly gruesome.
Anyway, wish me luck.  Hopefully we won’t discover anything too horrific.



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