A Very Sad Love Story – But With Proper Victorian Values…

I

On the Coast of Coromandel
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.

 

III

‘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!’

 

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 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!’.

 

VIII

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.

 

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