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    ONE FOOT UP AND ONE FOOT DOWN
    AND THAT'S THE WAY TO--

[Illustration: London Town]

LONDON TOWN

        COME CHILDREN ALL,
        BOTH GREAT AND SMALL,
      WITH EAGER EYE AND EAR,
      WHO DWELL AFAR OR NEAR
    IN HOPE THAT SOME DAY YOU'LL CONTRIVE
    TO VIEW GREAT LONDON'S BUSY HIVE,
    AND HEAR THE MIGHTY HUM OF BEES
    AT WORK ALIKE IN SUN OR SHOWER,
    WHILE BUTTERFLIES BENEATH THE TREES
    FLIT IDLY BY FROM FLOWER TO FLOWER
    IN PARKS AND GARDENS BRIGHT AND GAY:
    COME,--CLIMB SAINT PAUL'S WITH US TO-DAY,
      AND WITH THIS BOOK IN HAND,
      UPON THE DOME WE'LL STAND,
        AND THENCE LOOK DOWN
        O'ER LONDON TOWN.

London Town

Designed and Illustrated by

Thos. Crane & Ellen Houghton

  LONDON
  BELFAST  MARCUS WARD & CO  NEW YORK

[Illustration: PRINTED AND BOUND BY MARCUS WARD & CO. LONDON BELFAST]

Verses by

Felix Leigh

CONTENTS

THE HOUSES OF PARLIAMENT

ST. PAUL'S CATHEDRAL

                                        Page
  THE TOWER OF LONDON           8, 9, 10, 11
  THE OMNIBUS                             12
  THE PENNY-ICE MAN                       13
  COVENT GARDEN                       14, 15
  THE PENNY-TOY MAN                       16
  THE ORANGE GIRL                         17
  THE FIRST OF MAY                        18
  ST. JAMES' PARK                     19, 20
  WESTMINSTER ABBEY               21, 22, 23
  CHARITY GIRLS                           24
  THE BRITISH MUSEUM              25, 26, 27
  THE UNDERGROUND RAILWAY             28, 29
  THE ZOOLOGICAL GARDENS          30, 31, 32
  THE MILK WOMAN                          33
  THE MUFFIN MAN                          34
  THE SHOEBLACKS                          35
  CHRIST'S HOSPITAL                   36, 37
  GUILDHALL--GOG AND MAGOG            38, 39
  THE CAT'S-MEAT MAN                      40
  THE NIGHT WATCH                         41
  THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL              42, 43
  THE FLOWER WOMAN                        44
  CLEOPATRA'S NEEDLE                      45
  THE CHESTNUT WOMAN                      46
  THE FIFTH OF NOVEMBER                   47
  THE CHILDREN'S HOSPITAL                 48
  THE HAPPY FAMILY                        49
  THE CROSSING SWEEPER                    50
  PUNCH AND JUDY                          51
  THE LOWTHER ARCADE                  52, 53
  THE DUSTMAN IS COMING               54, 55

GOOD BYE

The Tower of London

    Among the sights of London Town
      Which little visitors wish to view,
    The Tower stands first, and its great renown
      Has, you will notice, attracted Prue.

    At a well-known spot, to Miss Prue's surprise,
      Some fine old ravens are strutting about.
    If upon the picture a glance you cast,
      You will know the ravens next time, no doubt.

    The red-coated guard who's watching here
      Is called a Beefeater--fancy that!
    And Prue discovers, as she draws near,
      A child by his side who is round and fat.

    "Father and Mother, pray come here,"
      In tones so pleasant, laughs lively Prue:
    "You've shown _me_ things that are odd and queer,
      A Beefeater's baby I'll show _you_!"

The Tower

    Prue has wandered high and wandered low
      Through Norman chapel and dungeon cell;
    The grand Crown Jewels that sparkle so,
      And the Traitor's Gate, she has seen as well.

    She has looked from the walls on the River, too,
      And spent in the Armouries nearly an hour:
    Ah! holiday folks like our Miss Prue
      Enjoy themselves when they come to the Tower!

    But the Tower was a prison, in days of old,
      And few who got into it ever came out,
    Though now we can visit the grim stronghold
      Any day of the week, without fear or doubt.

The Omnibus

    Every day along the streets of mighty London Town
    Nine hundred omnibuses rumble up and down.
    When you're tired of walking, call "Hi! Conductor, stop!"
    And he'll give you such a jolly ride, for twopence, on the top.

    Sometimes by the 'bus's side small boys will run a mile,
    Turning round just like the wheels, and hungry all the while:--
    "We've not had any breakfast,--won't you toss us down a brown?"--
    That's what they call a penny in the streets of London Town.

The Penny-Ice Man

    In summer when the sun is high,
      And children's lips are parched and dry,
    An ice is just the thing to try.
    So this young man who comes, 'tis plain,
      From Saffron Hill or Leather Lane,
    A store of pence will quickly gain.
    "A lemon ice for me," says Fred;
      Cries Sue, "No, have a cream instead."
    "A raspberry!" shouts Newsboy Ned.
    "What fun! Although we're now in June,
      It feels"--says Ned--"this afternoon,
    Like eating winter with a spoon!"

COVENT GARDEN

    This is Covent Garden,
      What a lively scene!
    Here are flowers so pretty,
      There are leaves so green.
    These are busy buyers,
      Busy sellers those,
    Selling, buying, selling,
      Everything that grows.

    Fruits and lovely blossoms
      Hither come each day,
    Fresh from _other_ gardens
      Many miles away.
    Cabbages potatoes,
      Pears and apples too,
    Grapes, and pines, and peaches,
      All are here on view.

    So the air is scented
      With the pleasant fruits,
    With the bright-hued nosegays,
      And the springing roots.
    For the little street-boys,
      Walking up and down,
    It's almost like the country
      Brought to London Town.

The Penny-Toy Man

    "Toys! toys! Penny Toys!
    Toys for girls, and toys for boys!
    Toys for dots who scarce can crawl,
    Toys for youngsters stout and tall,
    Toys for prince and peasant too,
    Toys, my dears, for all of you!
    Toys for girls and toys for boys!
    Toys! toys! Penny Toys!"

    That is how the toyman talks,
    As through London Town he walks;
    Bawling out his toyman's song,
    While he slowly moves along,
    On the pavement with a tray
    Which is filled, from day to day,
    With new toys to catch the eye
    Of the youthful passer-by.

    Sometimes it's a great big spider,
    Like that Miss Muffet had beside her;
    Sometimes it's a bat that flies,
    Or a baby doll that cries;
    Sometimes it's a frog that leaps,
    Or a crocodile that creeps:
    But whatever toy is shown,
    For a penny it's your own.

The Orange Girl

    Orange-girl Kitty
      Here you may see.
    That she is pretty
      All will agree.
    "Three for a penny!"
      That is her cry;
    No wonder many
      Hasten to buy.

    Orange-girl Kitty's
      Mother, we're told,
    Everyone pities--
      So feeble and old.
    Poor mother's living
      Kitty obtains,
    Cheerfully giving
      Her all that she gains.

    Orange-girl Kitty
      Roams to and fro;
    All through the city
      She's known high and low.
    When the sun's shining,
      When the rain falls,
    Never repining,--
      "Fine fruit!" Kitty calls.

The First of May

    Chimney Sweeps' Day, Blackbird is gay,
    Here he is singing, you see, in the "May."
    He has feathers as black as a chimney sweep's coat,
    So on Chimney Sweeps' Day he must pipe a glad note.

    [Illustration: Jack in the Green]

    Jack-in-the-Green from door to door
    Capers along with his followers four.
    As May Day mummers are seldom seen,
    Let us all give a copper to Jack-in-the-Green.

St. James's Park

    What a countrified scene we have here!
    Who would think London Town was so near,
    That its murmur comes borne on the breeze
    To the listener under the trees?

    To this spot, to buy biscuits or buns,
    Each city child joyously runs.
    But the Park's greatest treat, they all vow,
    Is a glass of new milk from the cow.

    Cried the drake to the ducks, "Here's a boy with a bun,
      Come, make haste! we shall have quite a feast!"
    "Would you mind," said a swan, "if we shared in the fun?"
      "O dear no!" said he; "not in the least!"
    It was surely through fear, not politeness at all,
      That the drake made so civil a speech,
    For that one penny bun, after all, was so small,
      There was hardly a mouthful for each!

    From the ducks and the swans on the lake, to next page--
      A much quieter scene--you may pass:
    Though Westminster Cloisters are hoary with age,
      Yet green is their velvety grass,
    And cheerily bright are their gables and peaks,
      As they glow in the westering sun:
    'Tis some house in the Cloisters yon schoolboy seeks--
      Don't you wonder, now, which is the one?

[Illustration: The Inner Cloisters Westminster]

Westminster Abbey

    In all the land
    A pile so grand
    Is scarcely found
    As this. Around
    Its old grey walls
    The shadow falls
    Of bygone years,
    And so one fears
    To raise one's tone,
    When one is shown
    Some ancient tomb,
    Half hid in gloom.
    Beneath such stones
    There rest the bones
    Of monarchs bold,
    Whose story's told
    For you and me
    In history.

    From kings of men
    We wander; then
    We're quickly brought
    To kings of thought,
    For poets lie
    Interred hard by.
    Here, too, repose
    The bones of those
    Who fought the foe
    Long, long ago.
    Brave knights were they;
    And in the fray
    They kept from shame
    The English name,
    And proved in fight
    Great Britain's might.
    Where they are laid
    Their rest is made
    As sweet as prayer
    By music rare:
    Over their head
    The sleeping dead
    Can daily hear
    The anthem clear
    Floating along
    Like angel's song,
    Until it dies
    Like angel's sighs.

On the way to the British Museum

    Not far from the British Museum there stands
      An apple stall, painted bright green,
    Whence a penny may buy from the stall-keeper's hands
      Three apples, all rosy and clean.

    Now the girls of St. George's great Charity School
      Very often are passing that way,
    For their governors wise make this very good rule--
      They must go for a walk every day.

    How wistful the glances they cast as they pass,
      How they long for an apple to eat;
    But their pockets are quite without pennies, alas!
      To purchase so dainty a treat.

    These maidens have cheeks that are rosy and sweet
      As the choicest of fruit on the stall,
    And the very next time that we meet in this street,
      I'll buy apples enough for them all.

    Goodness gracious! What a noise
      Baby Bunting's bent on making;
    It is quite enough to set
      All the heads around him aching.
    Still we're sure that Baby has
      Many griefs if we could see 'em,
    For with other babes he's come
      Miles and miles to the Museum.
    Baby Bunting thought, of course,
      When he said good bye to mother,
    That he'd pass in through the gates
      With big sister and big brother.
    But poor Baby finds, alas,
      That his little hopes have flitted,
    For the nasty notice says
      "Babes in arms are not admitted."

[Illustration: In the British Museum NORTH WEST EDIFICE NIMROUD]

In the British Museum

    If you want to see all sorts of wonderful things,
      Stuffed crocodiles, mammoths, and sloths,
    Hairy ducks with four feet, and fishes with wings,
      Fat beetles, and strange spotted moths;

    And enormous winged bulls with long beards, carved in stone,
      Dug up from Assyria's sand,
    And old blackened mummies as dry as a bone,
      Discovered in Egypt's lone land,

    And beautiful statues from Greece and from Rome,
      And other fine things without end,--
    You will find you can see half the world here at home,
      If a day in this place you will spend.

The Underground Railway

    Who is this in the Weighing Chair?
    Why, little Dot, I do declare!
    Three stone five! "So much as that?"
    Calls out Miss Dot; "then I _must_ be fat!"

    On this and the opposite page you see
    Dot's mother, and brother, and sisters three.
    They wait for an underground train to come
    And carry them swiftly back to their home.

    Wonderful trains! From morn till night,
    Clattering through tunnels without daylight,
    Hither and thither they run, up and down,
    Beneath the streets of London Town.

    Many prefer these trains instead
    Of the cabs and "Busses" overhead,
    For they run much faster than horses can.
    Miss Dot's papa is a busy man,

    And goes to the City every day
    By the "Underground,"--the quickest way:
    And One Hundred Millions of people, 'tis found,
    Are carried each year by the "Underground."

The Zoological Gardens

    Away we go to the famous Zoo'
      With Bertie, and Nellie, and Dick, and Sue.
    And we feel quite ready to jump for glee
      When the wonderful birds and beasts we see.
    The pelican solemn with monster beak,
      And the plump little penguin round and sleek,
    Have set us laughing--Ha, ha! Ho! ho!
      And you'll laugh too, if you look below.
    To the monkey-house then we make our way,
      Where the monkeys chatter, and climb, and play;
    At the snakes we peep, then onward stroll,
      To talk to the parrots, and "scratch a poll,"
    And after all that, there will still be time
      On the patient elephant's back to climb.

The Bear & the Buns

    Don't forget at the Zoo'
    To take a good view
    Of the funny old bear,
    Who climbs out of his lair
    Up a pole--Look, he's here,
    With his figure so queer,
    And his thick clumsy paws,
    And his bun-seeking jaws.
    On the end of a stick
    Place a bun--"Now quick,
    Master Bertie"--and, snap!--
    What an awful red trap!--
    The bun's out of sight,
    But one more will delight
    Father Bruin up there,
    For his appetite's rare,
    And he never says "No"
    To a dozen or so.

The Milk Woman

    "Milk o! Milk o!"
      Each morn she cries,
    And little sleepers
      Ope their eyes,
    And wonder if pure milk is sold
    By Betty here, for they've been told
    That London milk
      (How people talk!)
    Is only water
      Mixed with chalk!

The Muffin Man

      You've heard about the muffin man,
          the muffin man, the muffin man,
        You've heard about the muffin man
          who lives in Drury Lane?
      Well, here you see that muffin man--
          that celebrated muffin man,
    And if you try his muffins, you'll be sure to buy again.

The Shoeblack Brigade

    If you wanted a boy to polish your shoes,
    Which of these two, do you think, you would choose?

    They were once "Street Arabs," hungry, ill-clad,
    And in very sore danger of going to the bad;
    But now!--one might think that their fortunes were made,
    They're so proud to belong to the Shoeblack Brigade.

The Blue-Coat Boys

    If you should pass through Newgate Street,
      Bareheaded boys with coats of blue,
    Among the crowd you're sure to meet--
      And all with yellow stockings too.

    Their coats are long as well as blue,
      And when at football they do play,
    They find them rather heavy too,
      So tuck them up out of the way.

    In Christchurch passage will be found
      The entrance to the School; and though
    It looks so quiet, all around
      We hear the crowd go to and fro.

    Above the doorway there you see
      The Boy King's statue:--Would you know
    Who founded this great school? 'Twas he,
      More than three hundred years ago.

Gog and Magog in the Guildhall

    In the famous Guildhall
    Mayor and Alderman all
    Meet to banquet and feast,
    And it's whispered that they
    Aren't inclined in the least
    From the table to stray:
    For they're fond of good cheer,
    And they meet with it here,
    Where the wine
    Is so fine,
    And still better than that,
    Where the turtle's rich fat
    Tempts the guests when they dine.
    Turtle soup's very good,
    And a favourite food,
    With the banqueters all
    Who frequent the Guildhall.

    Two giants so tall
    Guard the famous Guildhall.
    (Gog is one, and the other
    Is Magog his brother.)
    Well, these giants so tall
    Watch the feast, but can't call
    For a crumb,
    As they're dumb,
    And not living at all!
    Else 'twould seem scarcely fair,
    That when good things were by,
    Gog and Magog should stare
    From their pedestals high,
    For if placed at a table
    At least they'd look able,
    To dine there and then
    Like two live Aldermen!

The Cat's-Meat Man

    He calls "Meat, meat!"
    All down the street;
    And dogs "bow-wow,"
    And cats "mi-ow,"
    While kittens sly
    Come purring by,
    As if to say--
    "Do serve us, pray,
    The first of all,
    For we're so small."
    The man throws bits
    Of meat to kits,
    And cats, and dogs;
    Then on he jogs,
    And down the street
    Still cries "Meat, meat!"

The Night Watch

    Policeman A, Policeman B,
    Likewise Policemen C and D--
    All in a row, sedate and slow,
    Away to their beats, tramp! tramp! they go.

    Now the first is beloved by Ann the cook,
    And his manly face has a bashful look,
    As he thinks, with a sigh, of the beer and the pie
    He has had from those area steps close by.

    And here are three housemaids trim and slim;
    Mr. B. knows Betty is fond of him;
    But Policeman C loves Cicely,
    And Dolly's engaged to Policeman D.

CHAPEL OF THE FOUNDLING HOSPITAL

    In Guildford Street, great London Town,
      Is a Nursery, bigger than ever has been:
    When each child grows up and leaves its walls,
      Another new baby that day is seen
    In the Foundling cots. Each little babe
      Has no baby sister or baby brother,
    And never shall know the anxious care
      And tender touch of a loving mother.
    But "Our Father," who gives their "daily bread"
      To all of His creatures, caused kindly men
    To build this home for famishing babes
      From many a poverty-stricken den:
    And here they are fed, and clothed, and taught,
      And lift their voices in prayer and praise;
    And here every Sunday the people flock
      To hear the Anthem the Foundlings raise.

    AFTER CHAPEL,
    See them all
    Assembled in
    The DINING HALL.

    The bugle sounds
    E'er grace is sung,--
    Then fork and spoon
    And lip and tongue

    Clatter, chatter,--
    Such a noise!
    Oh! such happy
    Girls and boys.

The Flower Woman

    "Flowers sweet and fair, Sir,
      Flowers that any
    Princess might wear, Sir--
      A bunch for a penny!"
    Many a bunch
      Must the flower-woman sell,
    To buy food for herself,
      And her children as well.

Cleopatra's Needle

    Upon the broad Embankment
    You'll find a curious sight,--
    The children play around it
    From morning until night;
    And crowds of grown-up people
    Come here to see it too,
    'Tis Cleopatra's Needle
    Folks gather thus to view.

    In Mother's pretty work-box
    There's no such needle shown;
    This needle, brought from Egypt,
    Is nothing but a stone.
    How silently it watches
    Old Thames go gliding by!
    "You're very old," the River says,
    "But not so old as I."

    Think you it longs for Egypt,
    This wondrous solemn stone,
    That stands and gazes at us
    Each day so sad and lone?
    Ah yes! when London's sleeping,
    If monuments can dream,
    It longs for Egypt's palm-trees,
    And Nile's slow murmuring stream.

[Illustration: Cleopatra's Needle]

The Chestnut Woman

    "All hot! all hot! come buy!
      Ten a penny is the price,
    And if you my chestnuts try,
      You'll declare they're very nice.
    See how brightly burns my fire!
      Hear the chestnuts hiss and crack!
    Better nuts you can't desire
      Than these beauties, big and black.

    "All hot!--if you are cold,
      Have a pennyworth of heat,
    Something nice and warm to hold,
      Something nice and warm to eat.
    Munch your chestnuts up, and then,
      If your toes want warming too,
    Say, 'I'll have another ten,
      Just to warm me through and through."

    So the cheerful chestnut dame
      To each chilly passer calls,
    As she roasts above the flame
      Fine round nuts like floury balls.
    Hungry children soon draw near,
      If a penny they have got,
    And with warmth and food to cheer,
      _They_ become "all hot! all hot!"

The 5th of November

    The fifth of November they bid you remember,
    These bright little boys with the funny old Guy.
    In his chair up and down he'll be borne through the town,
    Then burned in a bonfire he'll be by-and-by.

    All those who remember the fifth of November
    Some money will give to the boys with the Guy.
    If all gave a penny, I wonder how many
    Wheels, crackers, and squibs they'd be able to buy?

Guy Fawkes Day

In the Children's Hospital

    Little sick Tommy,
      What trouble he's had--
    Medicine and blisters!
      His cough was _so_ bad!

    Now he is better:
      He soon will be well,
    And go back to Mother,
      With stories to tell,

    Of softly reclining
      On pillows of down,--
    Of Mary his nurse
      In her pretty blue gown,

    Of the doctor so gentle,
      The other sick boys,
    And oh! a whole shopful
      Of beautiful toys!

The Happy Family

    Here's my Happy Family,
    Little folks, as you may see:
    Cats who fight, but just in fun,
    Mice who up the flag-staff run,
    Paroquet, canaries too,--

    Now, my dears, 'twixt me and you,
    Girls and boys who scold and tease,
    Might a lesson learn from these
    Birds and beasts who all agree
    In my Happy Family.

The Crossing Sweeper

    He is weak and old, and he feels the cold,
      But a nice clean path he keeps,
    For passengers all, both great and small,
      As the mud to each side he sweeps.
    The people stare, in London Town,
    At his turban rare, and his face so brown,
    But the poor old Hindoo does not mind,
    So long as a coin for him they find.
    And he nods and smiles, as he sweeps away,
    As if to the passer-by he'd say,--
    "Think of your shining boots and shoes,
    And a copper to me you can't refuse.
    For each penny I get I sweep the faster--
    Ah! thank you,
                 Thank you,
                          Kind young master!"

PUNCH AND JUDY

    Have you a penny? well then, stay!
    Haven't you any? don't go away!
    Punch holds receptions all through the day,
    Squeaking aloud to gather a crowd,
    Scolding at Toby, beating his Wife,
    Frightening the Constable out of his life,
    And making jokes in a terrible passion,
    As is Mr. Punch's peculiar fashion;
    For this is his old, delightful plan
    Of getting as many pence as he can.
        Then away he'll jog,
        With his Wife and his Dog,
        New folks to meet
        In the very next street.

The Lowther Arcade

    Tell me, rosy little boy,
      Listen, little maiden, too,
    Do you love a fine new toy?
      Yes, you say, of course you do.
    Then your thought to Mother tell,
      And she'll take her little maid,
    And her little boy as well,
      To this wonderful Arcade.

    Active apes that climb up sticks,
      Swords and guns and trumpets bright,
    Wooden horses, wooden bricks,
      Big fat lambs with fleeces white,
    Dolls that smile and dolls that cry,
      Soldiers ready for parade,
    All are here for you to buy,
      In this wonderful Arcade.

    Toys are hanging up on strings,
      Toys are laid in tempting rows,
    And each shop with pretty things
      Is so crammed it overflows.
    Little girls and little boys
      Oft are puzzled, we're afraid,
    Which to choose of all the toys
      In this wonderful Arcade.

The Dustman is coming

    Off to bed the pets must flock.
    Look! it's nearly eight o'clock.

    Baby's sleepy, so is Claire--
    "Ah!" says Mother on the stair,
    To little folks that yawn and blink,
    "The dustman's coming, I should think."

    Mother's right, for sure enough
    Here's the dustman, strong and bluff.
    "Dust ho! dust ho!" hear his cry,
    As the dust-cart rumbles by.

    The dustman home is going soon,
    For there you see the rising moon.
    And sleepy Claire, in cot so white,
    Thinks that his cry must mean "Good Night."

GOOD-BYE

End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of London Town, by Felix Leigh
{'title': 'London Town by Felix Leigh', 'source': 'Project Gutenberg', 'lang': 'en'}