Here's a song I heard sung in London pubs in the 'fifties. There are more verses but this is all I remember.

I'm a Cockney born in Bow
An I tell yer what I know
I uses slang wiv every other word
Instead of saying "Up the stairs"
I sez "Up the apples an pears"
An what I say is true
You can take my dicky bird
I've always been contented wiv me 'umble love abode
An I knows where I'm going when I cross the frog an toad

Chorus-
Up the apples an pears
Through the rory o' moore
back - to - the dear old trouble an strife
On the Cane and Able, I - shall - see
A pair o' Jack the rippers and a cup o' Rosie Lee
What could be fairer than this
A little cuddle and kiss
Then you wonder why I never roam
An when all is done and said I tumbles into Uncle Ned
An blows out the old broom 'andle in me 'ome sweet 'ome