Volume 150 — NURSERY RHYMES OF LONDON TOWN.

The fruit hangs ripe, the fruit hangs sweet, High and low in my Orchard Street, Apples and pears, cherries and plums, Something for everyone who comes. If you're a Pedlar I'll give you a medlar; If you're a Prince I'll give you a quince; If you're a Queen, A nectarine; If you're the King Take anything, Apricots, mulberries, melons or red and white Currants like rubies and pearls on a string! Little girls each Shall have a peach, Boys shall have grapes that hang just out of reach— Nothing's to pay, whatever you eat Of the fruit that grows in my Orchard Street.