Jack Lives On London Bridge

A young boy in 16th century London becomes a hero.

Jack Lives on London Bridge

 

Jack Bailey was an average boy,

Who lived in Londontowne of old.   

His father kept a little shop

Where paper, pens and ink were sold.

 

So many other boys lived then

From Westow Hill to Norwood Ridge

But while the others lived on streets,

Jack Bailey lived on London Bridge.

 

The bridge was different than today

Where now the motor traffic glides,

But London Bridge of long ago

Was lined with buildings on both sides.

 

So high above the River Thames

Where houses, shops and grist mills stood

Is where the Bailey family lived;

The old bridge was their neighborhood

 

The Baileys rose before the sun

To sell their wares to folks who passed.

“Buy my paper!” Old Bailey cried

My ink is fine and long to last!

 

Their patrons were like loyal friends,

And some lived far while others near.

But Jackie’s favorite one of all

Was the playwright, Will Shakespeare.

 

Barking wares and plying trades,

Merchants, vendors, showmen, all.

The bridge grew noisy, crowded, too.

Jack sometimes feared the bridge would fall!

 

 

 

Some houses overhung the sides,

And all of them were squeezed in tight. 

One splendid building, Nonsuch House,

Had wooden struts to hold it right.

 

Jack loved his life on London Bridge,

And knew the span both high and low,

And only one thing frightened him:

The swirling cascades down below.

 

On twenty piers the bridge was built,

Across the Thames, from shore to shore.

The current rushing past the piers,

Made dangerous rapids crash and roar.

 

More than once to “shoot “the bridge,

The most skilled oarsmen often tried

When rushing waters pulled them in,

Some were saved, but many died.

 

One August day a wind arose

That picked up paper from the stack,

And sent it whirling toward the rail.

Old Bailey yelled, “Run, get it, Jack!”

 

Jack snatched the paper from the air

And not a sheet was lost that day,

That’s when he heard a desperate voice

That didn’t sound so far away.

 

Over the railing Jack looked down

And saw the churning tide below,

In the rapids, rough and wild

He saw a lady in the flow.

 

The bucket used by Mistress Stone

To get her water from the stream

Had on its handle, yards of rope,

Tied tightly to a wooden beam.

 

Jack grabbed the pail and hurled it down.

He knew how far the rope would go.

The lady soon was hanging on,

Enough to pull her from the flow.

 

A little barge burst into site,

And oarsmen claimed the lady tossed.

They waved at Jack and he waved back,

All happy that the stream had lost.

 

Jack was hailed a hero then

By all who watched the frightening scene. 

They cheered and clapped and soon found out

Jack saved a favorite of the queen!

 

The next day at the Baileys’ shop

A wax-sealed letter had arrived.

It bore the seal of England’s queen

Jack wondered what could be inside.

 

His father broke the seal and read

The letter sent by Good Queen Bess.

“To Master Jack, so kind and brave,

We’d like to show our thankfulness.”

 

And by appointment to the queen,

The Baileys’ ink and paper store

Was made the royal stationer.

Jack could wish for nothing more.

 

So people spoke for many years,

From Westow Hill to Norwood Ridge,

Of how the paper-seller’s son

Became the pride of London Bridge.

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

If anyone knows of an illustrator who would be interested in bringing this story to life, let me know. If published, my intentions would be for any proceeds to go toward St. Jude's Hospital.