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Category: Funny Nonsense Poems
       Classic humorous and funny poems, absurd and whimsical, foolish, no meaning, nonsense, and generally not making a lot of sense.

  THE YONGHY-BONGHY-BO  

                             I

On the Coast of Coromandel
    Where the early pumpkins blow,
        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.

                             II

Once, among the Bong-trees walking
    Where the early pumpkins blow,
        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.

                            III

"Lady Jingly! Lady Jingly!
    Sitting where the pumpkins blow,
        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.

                             IV

"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.

                             V

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!

                             VI

"Mr. Jones (his name is Handel,--
    Handel Jones, Esquire and 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 Dorkings send,
        I will give you three, my friend!
    Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!
    Mr. Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo!

                            VII

"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 Hoddy 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!"

                            VIII

Down the slippery slopes of Myrtle,
    Where the early pumpkins blow,
        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.

                             IX

Through the silent roaring ocean
    Did the Turtle swiftly go;
        Holding fast upon his shell
    Rode the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.
With a sad primÊval motion
Toward 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.

                             X

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 the little heap of stones
        To her Dorking Hens she moans,
    For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo,
    For the Yonghy-Bonghy-Bo.

                         Edward Lear.


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