Classic Poem

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.