Such a familiar part of everyday life in London were the bells of its churches that they acquired individual personalities in the minds of the populace. Anyone who has read Dickens’s A Christmas Carol-may well remember tie description of such a bell in the opening chapter:
The ancient tower of a church, whose gruff old bell was always peeping slily down at Scrooge out of a gothic window in the wall, became invisible, and struck the hours and quarters in the clouds, with tremulous vibrations afterwards, as if its teeth were chattering in its frozen head up there.
And of course, there was young Richard Whittington, who while climbing Highgate Hill heard the bells of St. Mary-le-Bow saying,
Turn again Dick Whittington, Lord Mayor of London!
What the bells of London said eventually became a series of nursery rhymes, as follows:
Gay go up and gay go down, To ring the bells of London Town. Bulls’ eyes and targets, Say the bells of St. Margaret’s. Brickbats and tiles, Say the bells of St Giles’. Halfpence and farthings, Say the bells of St Martin’s. Oranges and lemons, Say the bells of St Clemen’s Pancakes and fritters, Say the bells of St Peter’s. Two sticks and an apple, Say the bells of Whitechapel. Old Father Baldpate, Say the slow bells at Aldgate. Pokers and tongs, Say the bells of St John’s. Kettles and pans, Say the bells of St Anne’s. You owe me ten shillings, Say the bells of St Helen’s. When will you pay me? Say the bells at Old Bailey. When I grow rich, Say the bells at 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 comes a candle to light you to bed, And here comes a chopper to chop off your head!