| 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 I 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 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-Bò, “Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò!” |
| VIII. |
| Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle, Where the early pumpkins grow, 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 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-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 heap of stones To her Dorking Hens she moans For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò, For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bò. |
| I. |
| O My Aged Uncle Arly! Sitting on a heap of Barley Thro’ the silent hours of night,— Close beside a leafy thicket:— On his nose there was a Cricket,— In his hat a Railway-Ticket (But his shoes were far too tight). |
| II. |
| Long ago, in youth, he squander’d All his goods away, and wander’d To the Tiniskoop-hills afar. There on golden sunsets blazing, Every evening found him gazing,— Singing,—“Orb! you’re quite amazing! “How I wonder what you are!” |
| III. |
| Like the ancient Medes and Persians, Always by his own exertions He subsisted on those hills;— Whiles,—by teaching children spelling,— Or at times by merely yelling,— Or at intervals by selling “Propter’s Nicodemus Pills.” |
| IV. |
| Later, in his morning rambles He perceived the moving brambles— Something square and white disclose;— ’Twas a First-class Railway-Ticket; But, on stooping down to pick it Off the ground,—a pea-green Cricket Settled on my uncle’s Nose. |
| V. |
| Never—never more,—oh! never, Did that Cricket leave him ever,— Dawn or evening, day or night;— Clinging as a constant treasure,— Chirping with a cheerious measure,— Wholly to my uncle’s pleasure (Though his shoes were far too tight). |
| VI. |
| So for three and forty winters, Till his shoes were worn to splinters, All those hills he wander’d o’er,— Sometimes silent;—sometimes yelling;— Till he came to Borley-Melling, Near his old ancestral dwelling (But his shoes were far too tight). |
| VII. |
| On a little heap of Barley Died my agèd Uncle Arly, And they buried him one night;— Close beside the leafy thicket;— There,—his hat and Railway-Ticket;— There,—his ever-faithful Cricket (But his shoes were far too tight). |
Footnotes:
[1] Washerman.
[2] Fan.
[3] Butler.
[4] Waiter at table.
[5] Police or post station.
[6] Office messenger.
[7] Water skin.
[8] Watercourse.
[9] Groom.
[10] Water-carrier.
[11] Sedan Chair.
[12] Salt.
[13] Waist Sash.