The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bònghy-Bò

On the Coast of Coromandel,

Where the early pumpkins grow,

In the middle of the woods

Lived the Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò.

Once, among the Bong-trees walking

Where the early pumpkins grow,

To a little heap of stones

Came the Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò.

"Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!

Sitting where the pumpkins grow,

Will you come and be my wife?"

Said the Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò.

"On this Coast of Coromandel,

Shrimps and watercresses grow,

Prawns are plentiful and cheap,"

Said the Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò.

Lady Jingly answered sadly,

And her tears began to flow,

"Your proposal comes too late,

Mr. Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò!

"Mr Jones - (his name is Handel -

Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.)

Dorking fowls delights to send,

Mr Yonghy-Bònghy-Bò!

Keep, oh! keep your chairs and candle,

And your jug without a handle,

I can merely be your friend!

- Should my Jones more Dorking send,

I will give you three, my friend!

Mr. Yonghy-Bònghy-Bò!

"Though you've such a tiny body,

And your head so large doth grow,

Though your hat may blow away,

Mr. Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò,

Mr. Yonghy-Bònghy-Bò!"

Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,

Where the early pumpkins grow,

To the calm and silent sea

Fled the Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò.

Through the silent-roaring ocean

Did the Turtle swiftly go;

Holding fast upon his shell

Rode the Yonghy-Bònghy-Bò,

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-Bònghy-Bò,

Sang the Yonghy-Bònghy-Bò.

From the Coast of Coromandel

Did that Lady never go;

On that heap of stones she mourns

For the Yonghy-Bònghy-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-Bònghy-Bò.