You’ve probably hummed it since you were four. "Oranges and lemons, say the bells of St. Clement's." It’s catchy. It's rhythmic. It’s also kinda dark if you actually look at the geography of London and the history of the churches involved.
The bells of St. Clement’s aren’t just a line in a kid’s song. They represent a literal map of medieval and early-modern London, a city where the sound of bronze hitting wood was the only way people knew what time it was, who was dying, or if an enemy was at the gates. Most people assume the song is just about fruit and debt. In reality, it’s a sonic tour of a city that was often on the brink of chaos.
Which St. Clement’s Are We Even Talking About?
Here is the thing that trips up most historians. There are actually two "St. Clement’s" in London that claim the fame. You have St. Clement Danes in Westminster and St. Clement Eastcheap in the City of London.
Honestly, the debate is heated. St. Clement Danes is the one with the famous carillon that actually plays the tune today. It sits on an island in the middle of the Strand, looking like a stone ship lost in traffic. But if you look at the route the rhyme takes—moving from the outer edges of the city toward the center—St. Clement Eastcheap makes more sense geographically. It was right near the wharves where oranges and lemons were actually unloaded from Mediterranean ships.
St. Clement Danes has leaned into the branding, though. Every year, they hold an "Oranges and Lemons" service where local school kids get handed citrus fruits. It’s a nice tradition, even if the history is a bit murky.
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The Sound of 18th Century Debt
The rhyme basically functions as a list of grievances. "You owe me five farthings, say the bells of St. Martin's." Back then, the bells didn't just tell time; they were the voice of the parish. If you lived in the shadow of St. Martin-in-the-Fields, those bells were your alarm clock and your debt collector.
The "five farthings" line likely refers to the extreme poverty in the St. Martin's parish at the time. It wasn't always the glitzy Trafalgar Square landmark we see now. It was a place of workhouses and struggle. The bells were a constant reminder of what you owed the world.
The Bells of St. Sepulchre and the Executioner
If you want to get into the really grim stuff, look at "When will that be? say the bells of Stepney." Or more famously, the ending that most parents skip: "Here comes a candle to light you to bed, and here comes a chopper to chop off your head!"
That isn't just a random scary ending. Many historians, including those who study London’s "Newgate Calendar," link this to the bells of St. Sepulchre-without-Newgate. This church stands right across from where Newgate Prison used to be. On execution mornings, a bellman from St. Sepulchre would go to the prison, ring a handbell, and recite a prayer for the condemned. Then, the Great Bell of the church would toll as the prisoner was led to the gallows.
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The "chopper" isn't a nursery rhyme metaphor. It was the reality of the public execution system that thousands of Londoners watched for entertainment.
Why the Bells of St. Clement’s Still Ring
You might wonder why we still care. Beyond the creepy history, these bells are a feat of engineering. The bells of St. Clement Danes were actually destroyed during the Blitz in 1941. The church was gutted by fire. It was a shell.
When they rebuilt it in the 1950s, they recast the bells using metal from the originals. They literally pulled the "oranges and lemons" out of the rubble. It’s a testament to how much Londoners value their auditory history. These aren't just decorative objects. They are heavy, dangerous, beautiful instruments that require a team of people (change ringers) to operate.
Change ringing is a uniquely British obsession. It’s not about playing a melody like a piano. It’s mathematical. You have a "peal" of bells, and the ringers follow complex patterns called "methods." It is physically exhausting. It’s loud. It’s basically a sport for people who like history and heavy lifting.
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Finding the Bells Today
If you’re walking through London, you can still hear these stories. You don’t need a tour guide.
- St. Clement Danes (The Strand): Go here to see the "Oranges and Lemons" bells. They are the most accessible. If you time it right, you’ll hear the mechanical carillon play the actual nursery rhyme tune at 9:00 am, 12:00 pm, 3:00 pm, and 6:00 pm.
- St. Mary-le-Bow (Cheapside): These are the "Bow Bells." According to legend, you aren't a true Cockney unless you were born within earshot of them. In the rhyme, they say, "I do not know, says the great bell of Bow."
- St. Sepulchre (Holborn Viaduct): Visit the "Execution Bell." It’s kept in a glass case inside the church. It’s small, unassuming, and deeply chilling when you realize what it signaled.
- St. Peter’s, Cornhill: These bells say, "When will you pay me?" This was the heart of the financial district. Even the saints were asking for their money back.
How to Experience London's Bells Like an Expert
Don't just walk past these churches. Most of them are open to the public during the day, and many have "practice nights" for the bell ringers.
If you find yourself near the Strand on a Tuesday evening, stand near the statues outside St. Clement Danes. You’ll hear the ringers practicing. It’s a messy, cascading sound that eventually finds a rhythm. It’s the sound of the 1700s cutting through the noise of red buses and TikTokers.
Check the website for the Ancient Society of College Youths. Established in 1637, they are one of the oldest ringing societies in the world. They still ring at many of the churches mentioned in the rhyme. Their records are a goldmine for anyone who wants to know the exact date a specific bell was cast or when a "full peal" (which takes about three hours of continuous ringing) was last completed.
The bells of St. Clement’s remind us that London is a city built in layers. The rhyme is a map. The bells are the landmarks. And the "chopper" at the end? That’s just a reminder that in old London, time—and life—was always shorter than you expected.
Actionable Next Steps
- Visit the "Oranges and Lemons" Church: Head to St. Clement Danes on the Strand. Check their calendar for the annual children's service in March—it's the only time you'll see the rhyme's citrus theme literally brought to life.
- Identify the Sound: Download an app like "Bellringer" or watch YouTube videos of "English Full Circle Ringing" to understand why the bells of St. Clement's sound different from the melodic chiming you hear in mainland Europe.
- Track the Rhyme's Path: Use a map to trace the churches from St. Clement's to Old Bailey. It makes for a fantastic three-mile historical walk through the City of London that avoids the usual tourist traps.