It has before been said that everything that could be carried has, at some time or other, been sold in the streets; and it follows that an approximately complete list of London Cries would reach a very large total. From its mere length and sameness such a list would moreover be apt to weary the reader; for not all cries have the interest of a traditional phrase or intonation which gives notice of the nature of the wares, even when the words are rendered unintelligible by the necessity of vociferation. But a few of the most constant and curious cries may be interesting to note.
“Hot Spice Gingerbread!”
“’Tis all hot, nice smoaking hot!”
You’ll hear his daily cry;
But if you won’t believe, you sot
You need but taste and try
“Old Cloaths!”
Coats or preeches do you vant?
Or puckles for your shoes?
Vatches too me can supply:—
Me monies von’t refuse.
“Knives to Grind!”
Young gentlemen attend my cry,
And bring forth all your Knives;
The barbers Razors too I grind;
Bring out your Scissars, wives.