Of fees and beer, that buy the time
Of those who raise that senseless chime
Those foolish times are passed away
When people liked the belfry’s bray,
With Lord Mayor’s Shows and Thames’s smells
We class those pestering London Bells,
Were wringers’ swipes and swindle gone,
That vulgar noise would not go on.
The fact from every steeple knells
That Pewter Pots are London Bells.