Rhyming Cockney Slang

Taking a light-hearted journey to the annual Pearly Harvest Festival.
So let me go from the top. Got up outer me Uncle Ned (bed) an Bob Squash-ed (washed) me boat race (face), with some band of hope (soap) before ‘aving a dig the grave (shave).

All respectable lookin’ like, it’s time to get me togs on. Oi, where’s me almond rocks (socks)? Ah ha! There they are, ‘iding in me daisy roots (boots). I put on me Dickey Dirt (shirt) ‘an me whistle ‘an flute (suit) otherwise known as me buttons. I comb me barnet fair (hair), pick up me tit for tat (hat) ‘an go down the Apples ‘an Pears (stairs) for me breakie (breakfast for you la di dah folks). Pucker it was, some Uncle Fred (bread), slosh on Stammer an Stutter (Butter) ‘an a nice slab of Stand at ease (Cheese).

 I checks me Gordon & Gotch (watch) for the bird lime (time) ‘an Calls the trouble ‘an strife (Missus/Wife) and told ‘er to get the dustbin lids (kids) ready and dressed. Now would you Adam ‘an Eve (believe) it? She tells me to shut me gob or she’ll kick me up the fife ‘an drum (bum). So I keep schtum, nip for a quick Bangers & Mash (Slash) and we’re on the off.

We leave the Cat ‘an Mouse (house), turn right at the Johnnie Horner (corner) of our Field of Wheat (street), Albert Square, and go down the frog ‘an toad (road) otherwise known as Forest Lane, we pass Maryland Point and John Wayne (Train) Station and into Leytonstone Road. Here’s where we catch the ol’ Uncle Gus (bus) to take us to Mile End Oxo Cube (tube) station. But of course just as we are about to get on the bloody bus me God Forbid (kid) pipes up askin’ where our fruit basket for the Harvest Festival is.

Oh my gourd I ‘ad forgot it, I tried not to Lord Mayor (Swear) and ‘ad to Scarpa Flow (go) back down the Frog & Toad (Road), to the Cat ‘an Mouse (House) to get it, then leg it back to catch the next flamin’ bus.

Finally we got a bus and then the train, just in time for rush hour. Jam packed we was. ‘Ow many stops to go? 3? 4? I can never remember ‘ow many there are. Anyway eventually we squeeze our way through the crowds and get off at Embankment Station. I’d rather save a little Pie & Mash (cash) by walkin’ that last ½ mile to Tralfalgar Square, than pay more to stay on that sardine tin.

Swear we were so far underground we were half way to Australia, but after goin’ up goodness knows ‘ow many apples an’ pears (stairs), we see sunlight. At last! Absolutely knackered, an’ we ‘adn’t even got there yet! Well at least the kids were behavin’... I spoke to soon...
“My Ham & Eggs (legs) hurt!” Brussel Sprouts (shouts) one of them. “I don’t wanna hold the basket, my arms hurt”, adds the other. So, though knackered myself, I give me Current Bun (son) a piggy back ride, and me Love & Kisses (Missus) takes the basket from our Bricks & Mortar (daughter).

Dryin’ the tears, we make our way up the frog ‘an toad (road), Northumberland Avenue, ‘an past the Sherlock Holmes pub, hidden away on the right hand side. Just as I was about to give up and drop me sprog, when we pass Charing Cross Station and Lord ‘luv a duck’ we see good ‘ole Lord Nelson standing up high in the middle of Trafalgar Sq right next to where we’re ‘eading for:

St Martin-in-the-Fields, The Church of The Original Pearly Kings & Queens Association.

Full of new energy, we all clamber up the apples & pears (Stairs) leading to the church where we meet ‘an Rabbit ‘an Pork (talk) to all the other Pearly families that have already arrived. What a sight for sore eyes. Everyone buttoned head to toe, the young, old, slim, short, fat, thin; Pearlies from all over London here for our harvest festival.

You don’t have to be a Pearly to attend the service and join in the celebration. Everyone’s welcome! Hey, maybe we’ll see yer there at the next Harvest Festival?
Every year at St Martin’s, Trafalgar Square, on the 1st Sunday in October at 3pm. Baked Potata (See you later)!

Written by Gerry & Sam Baxter