Apples & Pears Cockney Grime

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V6-MINI

[Verse 1 – Slow, measured, storytelling Cockney flow]
I come up the apples and pears to the room
Where me old china plate is banging a tune
He's got a dog and bone pressed to his loaf
Talking to his trouble, yeah, his trouble and strife
Said he ain't coming home, he's out on the frog
With a bottle of brown, he's a proper old soak
I said "Oi, sort it out, you're a right Tom Tit"
He said "Mind your own, or I'll give ya a dig"
So I grabbed me whistle, yeah, me whistle and flute
And I stepped out the door with a bag of fruit
Down the old frog and toad, past the rub-a-dub
Where the boys all gather for a bit of grub

[Chorus – Warm, anthemic, Cockney singalong]
Apples and pears, up the stairs
That's the way we talk round here
Dog and bone, on the phone
Cockney rhyming, we're never alone
Apples and pears, up the stairs
That's the way we talk round here
Loaf of bread, on me head
That's the Cockney life we led

[Verse 2 – Still measured, slightly more intense]
Now I'm on the jam jar, driving down the frog
Thinking 'bout me trouble, thinking 'bout the slog
She's at the rub-a-dub, having a rosy lee
With her old china plates, having a right old knees-up
I pull up, put the motor on the drive
Step out, give me Barnet a bit of a revive
Through the butcher's hook, I see her sitting there
With a peckham rye around her neck and a flower in her hair
I said "Alright, darlin', how's your bottle and glass?"
She said "Mind your Khyber, or I'll give ya a slap"
That's love in the East End, that's the way it goes
One minute you're laughing, next minute you're foes

[Bridge – Stripped back, spoken over slow piano]
They say the old ways are dying.
They say no one talks like that anymore.
But I still hear it.
On the market.
In the boozer.
On the estate.
My nan talked like this.
My grandad talked like this.
And I'll talk like this till the day I'm brown bread.
'Cos it ain't just language.
It's a way of life.
It's a code.
It's a family.
And you can't kill a family.

[Verse 3 – Slow, reflective, proud]
So raise a glass of Rosie to the old East End
To the pearly kings and the riverside bend
To the Bow bells ringing, to the markets and the docks
To the ones who had nothing but they still had their rocks
I'm a Cockney, I'm a diamond, I'm a proper old sort
I'll have a Ruby Murray and a bit of a natter
I'll talk in code till the day I'm dead
With me apples and pears and me loaf of bread

[Verse 4 – Slow, slang-stacked, proud]
Got me old dutch on the dog and bone
Telling her I'm on me way home
She says "Hurry up, you're getting on me wick"
I said "Alright, love, keep your Barnet on, quick"
I'm a Cockney boy, born and bred
From me plates of meat to me loaf of bread
I'll have a bubble bath and a cup of splosh
And I'll talk in slang till the day I'm gone
'Cos this is my heritage, this is my past
And this Cockney language is gonna last
Long after the flats are all sold to the rich
And the old East End is just a memory pitch
The words will remain, the slang will survive
'Cos the Cockney spirit is still alive

[Final Chorus – Warm, layered, Cockney singalong]
Apples and pears, up the stairs
That's the way we talk round here
Dog and bone, on the phone
Cockney rhyming, we're never alone
Apples and pears, up the stairs
That's the way we talk round here
Loaf of bread, on me head
That's the Cockney life we led
That's the Cockney life we led
That's the Cockney life we led

[Outro – Spoken, over fading beat]
Apples and pears.
Dog and bone.
Loaf of bread.
Trouble and strife.
China plate.
Butcher's hook.
Ruby Murray.
Rosy Lee.
That's the language of the East End.
That's the language of my family.
And I'll keep talking it
Till the day I'm brown bread.
Nice and slow.
So everyone can understand.
Keep it real.
Keep it Cockney.

4337/7500

[Intro – Spoken, over a slow, warm beat with a sampled old music hall piano and vinyl crackle] Oi oi! Gather round, you lot. This one's for the old East End. The Bow bells. The pearly kings. The language your nan taught ya. Apples and pears. Let's have it. Nice and slow. So everyone can understand. [Verse 1 – Slow, measured, storytelling Cockney flow] I come up the apples and pears to the room Where me old china plate is banging a tune He's got a dog and bone pressed to his loaf Talking to his trouble, yeah, his trouble and strife Said he ain't coming home, he's out on the frog With a bottle of brown, he's a proper old soak I said "Oi, sort it out, you're a right Tom Tit" He said "Mind your own, or I'll give ya a dig" So I grabbed me whistle, yeah, me whistle and flute And I stepped out the door with a bag of fruit Down the old frog and toad, past the rub-a-dub Where the boys all gather for a bit of grub [Chorus – Warm, anthemic, Cockney singalong] Apples and pears, up the stairs That's the way we talk round here Dog and bone, on the phone Cockney rhyming, we're never alone Apples and pears, up the stairs That's the way we talk round here Loaf of bread, on me head That's the Cockney life we led [Verse 2 – Still measured, slightly more intense] Now I'm on the jam jar, driving down the frog Thinking 'bout me trouble, thinking 'bout the slog She's at the rub-a-dub, having a rosy lee With her old china plates, having a right old knees-up I pull up, put the motor on the drive Step out, give me Barnet a bit of a revive Through the butcher's hook, I see her sitting there With a peckham rye around her neck and a flower in her hair I said "Alright, darlin', how's your bottle and glass?" She said "Mind your Khyber, or I'll give ya a slap" That's love in the East End, that's the way it goes One minute you're laughing, next minute you're foes [Chorus – Warm, anthemic, Cockney singalong] Apples and pears, up the stairs That's the way we talk round here Dog and bone, on the phone Cockney rhyming, we're never alone Apples and pears, up the stairs That's the way we talk round here Loaf of bread, on me head That's the Cockney life we led [Bridge – Stripped back, spoken over slow piano] They say the old ways are dying. They say no one talks like that anymore. But I still hear it. On the market. In the boozer. On the estate. My nan talked like this. My grandad talked like this. And I'll talk like this till the day I'm brown bread. 'Cos it ain't just language. It's a way of life. It's a code. It's a family. And you can't kill a family. [Verse 3 – Slow, reflective, proud] So raise a glass of Rosie to the old East End To the pearly kings and the riverside bend To the Bow bells ringing, to the markets and the docks To the ones who had nothing but they still had their rocks I'm a Cockney, I'm a diamond, I'm a proper old sort I'll have a Ruby Murray and a bit of a natter I'll talk in code till the day I'm dead With me apples and pears and me loaf of bread [Verse 4 – Slow, slang-stacked, proud] Got me old dutch on the dog and bone Telling her I'm on me way home She says "Hurry up, you're getting on me wick" I said "Alright, love, keep your Barnet on, quick" I'm a Cockney boy, born and bred From me plates of meat to me loaf of bread I'll have a bubble bath and a cup of splosh And I'll talk in slang till the day I'm gone 'Cos this is my heritage, this is my past And this Cockney language is gonna last Long after the flats are all sold to the rich And the old East End is just a memory pitch The words will remain, the slang will survive 'Cos the Cockney spirit is still alive [Final Chorus – Warm, layered, Cockney singalong] Apples and pears, up the stairs That's the way we talk round here Dog and bone, on the phone Cockney rhyming, we're never alone Apples and pears, up the stairs That's the way we talk round here Loaf of bread, on me head That's the Cockney life we led That's the Cockney life we led That's the Cockney life we led [Outro – Spoken, over fading beat] Apples and pears. Dog and bone. Loaf of bread. Trouble and strife. China plate. Butcher's hook. Ruby Murray. Rosy Lee. That's the language of the East End. That's the language of my family. And I'll keep talking it Till the day I'm brown bread. Nice and slow. So everyone can understand. Keep it real. Keep it Cockney.

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