A History of the Cries of London, Ancient and Modern

by Charles Hindley

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.