On the Coast of Coromandel, Where the early pumpkins grow, 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 grow, 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 grow, 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 Dorking 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 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-Bonghy-Bo, Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!" Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins grow, 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 that Lady never go; On that heap of stones she mourns For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo. 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-Bonghy-Bo. For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

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