Classic Poem

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 that 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 his 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 the Lady never go;
On the heap of stones she mourns
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
On the 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-Bo.
For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.