In Fleet Street, in Fleet Street, the People are so fleet They barely touch the cobble-stones with their nimble feet!

Water, Loo! water, Loo! fetch me some water! There isn't a drop for a mile and a quarter! The ground is so hard and the ground is so dry I'm frightened my litt…

Bugsby's reach is long as time, His reach is wide as wind is, He can pick you nettles in Greenwich Marsh And docks in the East Indies.

The little White Chapel is ringing its bell With a ring-a-ding-dong, All day long

'There is no VIP room in reality, and there is no reality in this city. You can't Google the answer.'[citation needed]

Before the ferry leaves a horse and wagon comes aboard, a brokendown springwagon loaded with flowers, driven by a little brown man with high cheekbones. Jimmy …

So, then, Oxford Street, stonyhearted stepmother, thou that listenest to the sighs of orphans, and drinkest the tears of children, at length I was dismissed fr…