After London

After London автор John Dynham Cornish Pellow

From the anthology "Georgian Poetry, 1920-22"

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London Bridge is broken down;
  Green is the grass on Ludgate Hill;
I know a farmer in Camden Town
  Killed a brock by Pentonville.

I have heard my grandam tell
  How some thousand years ago
Houses stretched from Camberwell
  Right to Highbury and Bow.

Down by Shadwell's golden meads
  Tall ships' masts would stand as thick
As the pretty tufted reeds
  That the Wapping children pick.

All the kings from end to end
  Of all the world paid tribute then,
And meekly on their knees would bend
  To the King of the Englishmen.

Thinks I while I dig my plot,
  What if your grandam's tales be true?
Thinks I, be they true or not,
  What's the odds to a fool like you?

Thinks I, while I smoke my pipe
  Here beside the tumbling Fleet,
Apples drop when they are ripe,
  And when they drop are they most sweet.

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