| |
|
On the Coast
of Coromandel
Where the early pumpkins blow,
In
the middle of the woods
Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
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-Bo,
Of the
Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Once, among the Bong-trees
walking
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To a little
heap of stones
Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
There he
heard a Lady talking,
To some milk-white Hens of
Dorking, -
"'Tis the Lady Jingly Jones!
On the
little heap of stones
Sits the Lady Jingly Jones!"
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
Sitting where the
pumpkins blow,
Will you come and be my wife?"
Said
the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"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-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"On this Coast of
Coromandel,
Shrimps and watercresses grow,
Prawns
are plentiful and cheap,"
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
"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-Bo,
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
Lady Jingly answered sadly,
And her tears began
to flow, -
"Your proposal comes too late,
Mr
Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
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-Bo!
Mr Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Mr Jones -(his name is
Handel, -
Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)
Dorking
fowls delights to send,
Mr Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Keep,
oh! 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-Bo!
Mr Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
"Though you've such a tiny body,
And your head so
large doth grow, -
Though your hat may blow away,
Mr Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Though you're such a Hoddy 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-Bo!
Mr
Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!"
Down the slippery slopes of
Myrtle,
Where the early pumpkins blow,
To the calm
and silent sea
Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
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-Bo!
Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
Through the silent-roaring ocean
Did the Turtle
swiftly go;
Holding fast upon shell
Rode the
Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primaeval 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-Bo,
Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
From the Coast of
Coromandel
Did that Lady never go;
On that heap of
stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On
that Coast of Coromandel,
In his jug without a
handle,
Still she weeps, and daily mourns,
On that
little heap of stones
To her Dorking Hens she moans,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
|
|
|
