THE YONGHY-BONGHY-BÒ. I. ON the Coast of Coromandel, Where the early pumpkins grow, In the middle of the woods Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. Two old chairs, and half a candle,— One old jug without a handle,— These were all his worldly goods: In the middle of the woods, These were all the worldly goods Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. II. Once, among the Bong-trees walking Where the early pumpkins grow, To a little heap of stones Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. There he heard a Lady talking, To some milk-white Hens of Dorking,— “’Tis the Lady Jingly Jones! “On that little heap of stones “Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!” Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. III. “Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly! “Sitting where the pumpkins grow, “Will you come and be my wife?” Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. “I am tired of living singly,— “On this coast so wild and shingly,— “I’m a-weary of my life; “If you’ll come and be my wife, “Quite serene would be my life!”— Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. IV. “On this Coast of Coromandel, “Shrimps and watercresses grow, “Prawns are plentiful and cheap.” Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, “You shall have my chairs and candle, “And my jug without a handle!— “Gaze upon the rolling deep (“Fish is plentiful and cheap)— “As the sea, my love is deep!” Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. V. Lady Jingly answered sadly, And her tears began to flow,— “Your proposal comes too late, “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! “I would be your wife most gladly!” (Here she twirled her fingers madly) “But in England I’ve a mate! “Yes! you’ve asked me far too late, “For in England I’ve a mate, “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! VI. “Mr. Jones—(his name is Handel,— “Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.) “Dorking fowls delights to send, “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! “Keep, oh I keep your chairs and candle, “And your jug without a handle,— “I can merely be your friend! “—Should my Jones more Dorkings send, “I will give you three, my friend! “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! VII. “Though you’ve such a tiny body, “And your head so large doth grow,— “Though your hat may blow away, “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò! “Though you’re such a Boddy Doddy— “Yet I wish that I could modi- “fy the words I needs must say! “Will you please to go away? “That is all I have to say— “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!” VIII. Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins grow, To the calm and silent sea Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. There beyond the Bay of Gurtle, Lay a large and lively Turtle;— “You’re the Cove,” he said, “for me; “On your back beyond the sea, “Turtle, you shall carry me!” Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. IX. Through the silent-roaring ocean Did the Turtle swiftly go; Holding fast upon his shell Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, With a sad primæval motion Towards the sunset isles of Boshen Still the Turtle bore him well, Holding fast upon his shell. “Lady Jingly Jones, farewell!” Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. X. From the Coast of Coromandel Did that Lady never go; On that heap of stones she mourns For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. On that Coast of Coromandel, In his jug without a handle, Still she weeps, and daily moans; On that little heap of stones To her Dorking Hens she moans For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.