I On the Coast of
Where the early pumpkins blow,
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 blow, 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.
II 'Lady Jingly!
Lady Jingly! 'Sitting where the pumpkins blow, '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! 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!'
II '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 Hoddy Doddy—'Yet a 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!'.
II Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins blow, 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
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 hep of stones To her Dorking Hens she moans, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò.
