O the little rusty, dusty, rusty miller!
I’ll not change my wife for either gold or siller.
Oranges and lemons,
Said the Bells of St. Clement’s.
You owe me five farthings,
Said the Bells of St. Martin’s.
When will you pay me?
Said the Bells of Old Bailey.
When I grow rich,
Said the Bells of Shoreditch.