(Long ago, I used to chant this sometimes as I washed my teeth, but that is a practice I have abandoned for two years or more. My self respect and my last tooth brush both wore out soon after I got here.)
Brush your teeth up and down, brother,
Oh, brush them up and down!
All the folks in London Town
Brush their teeth right up and down,
Oh! How they shine!
Aren’t they bloody fine?
Night and morning, my brother,
Oh brush them up and down!
A curious little piece, but one which illustrates both Orwell’s sense of humour and keen eye for adverts (Gordon Comstock is preoccupied with, if not obsessed by, them in Keep the Aspidistra Flying).
1918 – 19