Down the cobbled streets of London

chimes ring out the hour again,

standing tall beside the river

casts the shadow of old Big Ben.

Pigeons gather perched on rooftops

laundry drying in the breeze,

horses pulling carts of plenty

coal from mines and logs from trees.

On the steps of St pauls cathedral

holding breadcrumbs in her hand

a penny a bag to feed the pigeons

watch them swoop and gently land.

On the river Thames it bustles

ships all Anchored side by side,

wares to sell from foreign places

outward bound on the next full tide.

Pubs all full of song and laughter

each glass raised to a toast or cheer,

prostitutes cling to men with money

the prices whispered in their ear.

Down the cobbled streets of London

chimes ring out the hour again

stand tall beside the river

casts the shadow of old Big Ben.