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.
