Apple Tarts. Apple Tarts.
| Apple Tarts! Apple Tarts! Tarts, I cry! They are all of my own making, My Apple Tarts! My Apple Tarts, come buy! For, a honest penny I would be taking. |
| Ripe Strawberries! a groat a pottle, to-day, Only a groat a pottle, is what I say! |
Ripe and Fresh Strawberries.
| Ripe strawberries, a full pottle for a groat! They are all ripe and fresh gathered, as you see, No finer for money I believe can be bought; So I pray you come and deal fairly with me. |
| Any Knives, or Scissors to grind, to-day? Big Knives, or little Knives, or Scissors to grind, O! |
Any Knives or Scissors to Grind.
| Any Knives or Scissors to grind, to-day? I’ll do them well and there’s little to pay; Any Knives or Scissors to grind, to-day? If you’ve nothing for me, I’ll go away. |
| Door-Mat! Door-Mat, Buy a Door-Mat, Rope-mat! Rope-Mat! Buy a Rope-Mat. |
Rope Mat. Door Mat.
| Rope Mat! Door Mat! you really must Buy one to save the mud and dust; Think of the dirt brought from the street For the want of a Mat to wipe your feet. |
| Clothes Props! Clothes Props! I say, good wives Clothes Props, all long and very strong, to-day. |
Clothes Props, Clothes Props.
| Buy Clothes Props, Buy Clothes Props! Pretty maids, or pretty wives, I say, I sell them half the price of the shops; So you’ll buy of the old man, I pray. |
| Come take a Peep, boys, take a Peep? Girls, I’ve the wonder of the world. |
The Raree-Show.
| Come take a Peep, each lady and gent, My Show is the best, I assure you; You’ll not have the least cause to repent, For I’ll strive all I can to allure you. |
| Water Cresses! Fine Spring Water Cresses! Three bunches a penny, young Water Cresses! |
Water Cresses. Fresh and Fine.
| Young Cresses, fresh, at breakfast taken A relish will give to eggs and bacon! My profit’s small, for I put many In bunches sold at three a penny |
| Mutton Pies! Mutton Pies! Mutton Pies, Come feast your eyes with my Mutton Pies. |
Who’ll Buy my Mutton Pies?
| Through London’s long and busy streets, This honest woman cries, To every little boy she meets, Who’ll buy my Mutton Pies? |
| Please to Pity the Poor Old Fiddler! Pity the Poor Old Blind Fiddler! |
The Poor Old Fiddler.
| The poor old Fiddler goes his rounds, Along with old Dog Tray; The East of London mostly bounds His journeys for the day. |
| Muffins, O! Crumpets! Muffins, to-day! Crumpets, O! Muffins, O! fresh, to-day! |
The Muffin Man.
| The Muffin Man! hark, I hear His small bell tinkle shrill and clear; Muffins and Crumpets nice he brings, While on the fire the kettle sings. |
| Oysters, fresh and alive, three a penny, O! When they are all sold I sha’n’t have any, O! |
Oysters. Fine New Oysters.
| They’re all alive and very fine, So if you like them, come and dine; I’ll find you bread and butter, too, Or you may have them opened for a stew. |
| Buy fine Kidney Potatoes! New Potatoes! Fine Kidney Potatoes! Potatoes, O! |
Potatoes, Kidney Potatoes.
| Potatoes, oh! of kidney kind, Come buy, and boil, and eat, The core, and eke also, the rind, They are indeed so sweet. |
| Buy Images! Good and cheap! Images, very good—very cheap! |
Buy my Images, Images.
| Come buy my image earthenware, Your mantel pieces to bedeck, Examine them with greatest care, You will not find a single speck. |
| Buy ’em by the stick, or buy’em by the pound, Cherries ripe, all round and sound! |
All round and sound, my Ripe Kentish Cherries.
| Who such Cherries would see, And not tempted be To wish he possessed a small share? But observe, I say small, For those who want all Deserve not to taste of such fare. |
| Buy a Mop! Buy a Broom! Good to-day! Buy a Broom! Buy a Mop, I say! |
Buy a Mop or a Broom.
| Ye cleanly housewives come to me, And buy a Mop or Broom, To sweep your chambers, scour your stairs, Or wash your sitting room. |
| Golden Pippins, all of the right sort, girls! Golden Pippins, all of the right sort, boys! |
Golden Pippins, Who’ll Buy?
| Here are fine Golden Pippins; Who’ll buy them, who’ll buy? Nobody in London sells better than I! Who’ll buy them, who’ll buy? |
| Wash Ball, a Trinket, or a Watch, buy? Buy ’em, all cheap and all good! |
Wash Ball, Trinket, or Watch.
| Do ye want any Wash Ball or Patch.— Dear ladies, pray, buy of me;— Or Trinkets to hang at your Watch, Or Garters to tie at your knee? |
| Past twelve o’clock, and a cloudy morning! Past twelve o’clock; and mind, I give you warning! |
The City Watchman.
| Past twelve o’clock, and a moonlight night! Past twelve o’clock, and the stars shine bright! Past twelve o’clock, your doors are all fast like you! Past twelve o’clock, and I’ll soon be fast, too! |
| Young Lambs to sell! Young Lambs to sell! Young Lambs to sell! Young Lambs to sell! |
Young Lambs to Sell.
| Young Lambs to sell! Young Lambs to sell! Two a penny, Young Lambs to sell; If I’d as much money as I could tell, I wouldn’t cry young Lambs to sell. |
| Buy my sweet and rare Lilies of the Valley? Buy of your Sally—Sally of our Alley? |
Lilies of the Valley.
| In London street, I ne’er could find, A girl like lively Sally, Who picks and culls, and cries aloud, Sweet Lilies of the Valley. |
| Buy my young chickens! Buy’em alive, O! Buy of the Fowlman, and have ’em alive, O! |
Buy Chickens, Young Chickens.
| Buy my young Chickens, or a Fowl, well-fed, And we’ll not quarrel about the price; ’Tis thus I get my daily bread: As all the year round my Fowls are very nice. |
| Green Peas, I say! Green Peas, I say, here, Hav’em at your own price—here! here! |
Green Peas! Buy my Green Peas?
| Sixpence a peck, these Peas are sold, Fresh and green, and far from old; Green Marrows, it is quite clear, And as times go, cannot be dear. |
| Hat Box! Cap Box! Boxes, all sizes; All good, and at very low prices. |
Hat-Box; Cap Box.
| Hat or Cap Box! for ribbons or lace, When in a Box, keep in their place; And in a Box, your favourite bonnet Is safe from getting things thrown on it. |
| Eels, fine Silver Eels! Dutch Eels! They are all alive—Silver Eels! |
Eels; fine Dutch Eels.
| Eels, alive! fine Dutch eels, I cry, Mistress, to use you well I’m willing, Come step forth and buy— Take four pounds for one shilling. |
| Plumbs, ripe Plumbs! Big as your thumbs! Plumbs! Plumbs! Big as your thumbs! |
Plumbs; ripe Plumbs.
| Plumbs, for puddings or pies, This noisy woman bawls; Plumbs, for puddings or pies, In every street she calls. |
| Buy a Purse; a long and a strong Purse! A good leather or a strong mole-skin Purse! |
Buy a Purse.
| Buy a Purse; a long and strong Purse, They’ll suit the young—they suit the old! To lose good money, what is worse? Yet it’s daily done for the want of a purse. |
| Kettles to mend! any Pots to mend? Daily I say as my way I wend. |
Kettles or Pots to Mend!
| Kettles to mend! any pots to mend! You cannot do better to me than send; Think of the mess when the saucepans run, The fire put out, and the dinner not done. |
The Jolly Tinker.
| My daddy was a tinker’s son, And I’m his boy, ’tis ten to one, Here’s pots to mend! was still his cry, Here’s pots to mend! aloud bawl I. Have ye any tin pots, kettles or cans, Coppers to solder, or brass pans? Of wives my dad had near a score, And I have twice as many more: My daddy was the lord—I don’t know who— With his:— Tan ran tan, tan ran tan tan, For pot or can, oh! I’m your man. Once I in my budget snug had got A barn-door capon, and what not, Here’s pots to mend! I cried along— Here’s pots to mend! was my song. At village wake—oh! curse his throat, The cock crowed so loud a note, The folks in clusters flocked around, They seized my budget, in it found The cock, a gammon, peas and beans, Besides a jolly tinker. Yes, a jolly tinker— With his— Tan ran tan, tan ran tan tan, For pot or can, oh! I’m your man. Like dad, when I to quarters come, For want of cash the folks I hum, Here’s kettles to mend: Bring me some beer! The landlord cries, “You’ll get none here! You tink’ring dog, pay what you owe, Or out of doors you’ll instant go,” In rage I squeezed him ’gainst the door, And with his back rubb’d off the score. At his expense we drown all strife For which I praise the landlord’s wife— With my Tan ran tan, tan ran tan tan, For pot or can, oh! I’m your man. |
| Fine China Oranges, sweet as sugar! They are very fine, and cheap, too, to-day. |
Fine China Oranges.
| If friends permit, and money suits, The tempting purchase make; But, first, examine well the fruit, And then the change you take. |
Fine ripe Oranges
| Here are Oranges, fine ripe Oranges, Of golden colour to the eye, And fragrant perfume they’re dispensing, Sweeter than roses; come then and buy. Flowers cannot give forth the fragrance That scents the air from my golden store, Fairest lady, none can excel them, Buy then my Oranges; buy, I implore. Here are Oranges, fine ripe Oranges, Golden globes of nectar fine, Luscious juice the gods might envy, Richer far than the finest wine. Flowers cannot give forth the fragrance That scents the air from my golden store, Fairest lady, none can excel them, Buy then my Oranges; buy, I implore. |
Round for Four Voices.
Sir. J. Stevenson.
| Come buy my cherries, beauteous lasses; Fresh from the garden pluck’d by me; All on a summer’s day, so gay, You hear the London Cries—“Knives ground here by me.” Fine apples and choice pears, Eat, boys, forget your cares; All on a summer’s day, so gay, You hear the London Cries—“Sweep, sweep, sweep.” Fruit in abundance sold by me, Fruit in abundance here you see; All on a summer’s day, so gay, You hear the London Cries—“Parsnips, carrots, and choice beans.” Whey, fine sweet whey, Come taste my whey; All on a summer’s day, so gay, You hear the London Cries—“Fine radish, fine lettuce, sold by me.” |
Primroses.
| Come who’ll buy my roses, Primroses, who’ll buy? They are sweet to the sense, they are fair to the eye; They are covered all o’er with diamond dew, Which Aurora’s bright handmaids unsparingly threw On their beautiful heads: and I ask but of you— To buy, buy, buy, buy. The sun kiss’d the flowers as he rose from the sea bright, And their golden eyes opened with beauty and glee bright, Their sweets are untasted by hornet or bee— They are fresh as the morning and lovely to see— So reject not the blossoms now offered by me— But buy, buy, buy, buy. Nay, never refuse me, nor cry my buds down, They are nature’s production, and sweet ones, you’ll own; And tho’ torn from the earth, they will smile in your hall, They will bloom in a cottage, be it ever so small— And still look the lovliest flowers of all! So buy, buy, buy, buy. |
| THE LONDON CRIES IN LONDON STREETS. | ||||
| Embellished with Pretty Cuts, For the use of Good little Boys and Girls, and a Copy of Verses. | ||||
| Printed by T. BIRT, | 30, | Great St. Andrew Street, | ||
| Wholesale & Retail, | Seven Dials, London. | |||
| Country Orders punctually attended to. Every description of Printing done Cheap. ☞ Travellers and Shopkeepers supplied with Sheet Hymns, Patters, and Slip Songs, as Cheap and Good as any Shop in London. | ||||
| T. BIRT. To the Good Little Masters and Mistresses in Town and Country. | ||
| Here! look at the Cries of London town, For you need not travel there; But view you those of most renown, Whilst sitting in your chair. At Home—a hundred miles away, ’Tis easy now to look At the Cries of London gay, In this our little book. Yes; there in quiet you may be, Beside the winter’s fire, And read as well as see, All those that you desire. Or underneath the oak so grey, That grows beside the briar; May pass the summer’s eve away, And view each City Crier. | ||
Buy a Gazette? Great News! | ||
| In the Gazette great news, to-day: The enemy is beat, they say, And all are eager to be told— The news, the new events unfold. | ||
Come Buy my Fine Roses. | ||
| Come buy my fine roses, My myrtles and stocks; My sweet smelling balsams And close growing box. | ||
Buy an Almanack: New Almanacks. | ||
| My Almanacks aim at no learning at all, But only to show when the holidays fall: And tell, as by study we easily may, How many eclipses the year will display. | ||
Buy a Mop? Buy a Mop? | ||
| My Mop is so big, It might serve as a wig For a judge, had he no objection; And as to my brooms, They will sweep dirty rooms, And make the dust fly, to perfection. | ||
Lobsters and Crabs. | ||
| Here’s lobsters and crabs, Alive, O! and good, So buy if you please; This delicate food. | ||
Milk from the Cow. | ||
| Rich Milk from the Cow, Both sweet and fine; The doctors declare; It is better than wine. | ||
Buy a Basket, Large or Small? | ||
| Buy a basket? large or small? For all sorts I’ve got by me, So come ye forth, one and all, If you buy once, another time you’ll try me. | ||
Buy a Cane for Naughty Boys. | ||
| I’ve Sticks and Canes for old and young, To either they are handy, In driving off a barking cur, Or chastising a dandy. | ||
Hot Rice-Milk. | ||
| Hot Rice-Milk this woman calls— Behold her bright can, As up and down the streets she bawls Hot Rice-Milk to warm the inner man. | ||
Peaches and Nectarines. | ||
| Nice Peaches and Nectarines Just fresh from the tree; All you who have money, Come buy them of me. | ||
Hot Spice-Gingerbread. | ||
| Hot Spice-Gingerbread, hot! hot! all hot! This noisy fellow loudly bawls, Hot! hot! hot! smoking hot! red hot! In every street or public place he calls. | ||
Come, Buy my Spice-Gingerbread, Smoking Hot! Hot! Hot!
| Come, boys and girls, men and maids, widows and wives, The best penny laid out you e’er spent in your lives; Here’s my whirl-a-gig lottery, a penny a spell, No blanks, but all prizes, and that’s pretty well. Don’t stand humming and ha-aring, with ifs and with buts, Try your luck for my round and sound gingerbread-nuts; And there’s my glorious spice-gingerbread, too, Hot enough e’en to thaw the heart of a Jew. Hot spice-gingerbread, hot! hot! all hot! Come, buy my spice-gingerbread, smoking hot! I’m a gingerbread-merchant, but what of that, then? All the world, take my word, deal in gingerbread ware; Your fine beaus and your belles and your rattlepate rakes— One half are game-nuts, the rest gingerbread cakes; Then in gingerbread coaches we’ve gingerbread lords, And gingerbread soldiers with gingerbread swords. And what are you patriots, ’tis easy to tell— By their constantly crying they’ve something to sell. And what harm is there in selling—hem!— Hot spice-gingerbread, &c. My gingerbread-lottery is just like the world, For its index of chances for ever is twirled; But some difference between’em exist, without doubt, The world’s lottery has blanks, while mine’s wholly without, There’s no matter how often you shuffle and cut, If but once in ten games you can get a game-nut. So I laugh at the world, like an impudent elf, And just like my betters, take care of myself, and my— Hot spice-gingerbread, &c. |
T. Birt, Printer, 30, Great St. Andrews Street, Seven Dials.
Marks Edition.
THE NEW LONDON CRIES
OR A
VISIT TO TOWN.