The Broom, The Shovel, The Poker, And The Tongs.

I.     The Broom and the Shovel, the Poker and Tongs,     They all took a drive in the Park;     And they each sang a song, ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong!     Before they went back in the dark.     Mr. Poker he sate quite upright in the coach;     Mr. Tongs made a clatter and clash;     Miss Shovel was dressed all in black (with a brooch);     Mrs. Broom was in blue (with a sash).     Ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong!     And they all sang a song.          II.     "O Shovely so lovely!" the Poker he sang,     "You have perfectly conquered my heart.     Ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong! If you're pleased with my song,     I will feed you with cold apple-tart.     When you scrape up the coals with a delicate sound,     You enrapture my life with delight,     Your nose is so shiny, your head is so round,     And your shape is so slender and bright!     Ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong!     Ain't you pleased with my song?"          III.     "Alas! Mrs. Broom," sighed the Tongs in his song,     "Oh! is it because I'm so thin,     And my legs are so long, - ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong! -     That you don't care about me a pin?     Ah! fairest of creatures, when sweeping the room,     Ah! why don't you heed my complaint?     Must you needs be so cruel, you beautiful Broom,     Because you are covered with paint?     Ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong!     You are certainly wrong."          IV.     Mrs. Broom and Miss Shovel together they sang,     "What nonsense you're singing to-day!"     Said the Shovel, "I'll certainly hit you a bang!"     Said the Broom, "And I'll sweep you away!"     So the coachman drove homeward as fast as he could,     Perceiving their anger with pain;     But they put on the kettle, and little by little     They all became happy again.     Ding-a-dong, ding-a-dong!     There's an end of my song.