The Courtship of the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo by Edward Lear
On the Coast of Coromandel Where the early pumpkins blow, In the middle of the woods Lived the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. 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-BÑ‚, Of the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.
Once, among the Bong-trees walking Where the early pumpkins blow, To a little heap of stones Came the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. 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-BÑ‚, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.
'Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly! 'Sitting where the pumpkins blow, 'Will you come and be my wife?' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. '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-BÑ‚, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.
'On this Coast of Coromandel, 'Shrimps and watercresses grow, 'Prawns are plentiful and cheap,' Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. '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-BÑ‚, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.
Lady Jingly answered sadly, And her tears began to flow,-- 'Your proposal comes too late, 'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚! '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-BÑ‚! 'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚!'
'Mr. Jones -- (his name is Handel,-- 'Handel Jones, Esquire, & Co.) 'Dorking fowls delights to send, 'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚! '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-BÑ‚! 'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚!'
'Though you've such a tiny body, 'And your head so large doth grow,-- 'Though your hat may blow away, 'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚! '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-BÑ‚! 'Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚!'.
Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins blow, To the calm and silent sea Fled the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. 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-BÑ‚, Said the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.
Through the silent-roaring ocean Did the Turtle swiftly go; Holding fast upon his shell Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. With a sad primÐ¶val 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-BÑ‚, Sang the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.
From the Coast of Coromandel, Did that Lady never go; On that heap of stones she mourns For the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚. 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-BÑ‚, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-BÑ‚.