“Gay go up and gay go down
To ring the bells of London-town.
‘Oranges and lemons—’”
“Say the bells of St. Clemens’,” the room chorused with her, making Maxwell start at the suddenness of it.
The rest of it went that way too, a call and response where she sang the phrase and her audience responded with the name of the church.
He knew the song, as it happened. More accurately, he had known it once. They had sung it with different words in the days of the Tudors.
‘Two sticks and an apple,’Say the bells at Whitechapel.‘Halfpence and farthings,’Say the bells of St. Martin’s.
‘You owe me ten shillings,’Say the bells at St. Helen’s.‘When will you pay me?’Say the bells of Old Bailey.‘When I grow rich,’Say the bells of Shoreditch.‘Pray when will that be?’Say the bells of Stepney.
The audien
