The Boola-Boola Maid
In the wilds of Madagascar, Dwelt a Boola—boola maid;
For her hand young men would ask her, But she always was afraid.
Oh that Boola—boola maid She was living in the shade Of a spreading Yum—yum tree;
And —when the day was done At the setting of the sun, She would make this melodee:
As this ditty she was cooing, Came a Boola—boola man;
And he lost no time in wooing; For he punched her on the pan.
Oh that Boola—boola maid She was terribly afraid So he punched her on the eye;
And —then he laugh’d with glee As beneath the Yum—yum tree He —heard that maiden cry:
Then with shrieks of ribald laughter, Said the Boola—boola man;
“If it’s only socks you’re after, I will do the best I can.
I have handed you a pair, And I’ve plenty more to spare,” So he socked her on the nose;
And a woeful maid was she, As beneath the Yum—yum tree, This —lamentation 'rose:
Now the wedding tom—tom’s over, for this Boola—boola maid;
And when ev’ning shadows hover, She no longer is afraid.
For she weasrs a palm—leaf pinny And she rocks a pickaninny In the shade of the Yum—yum tree,
And she’s happy with her he—man, Though she still dreams of a She—man, As she sings this song with glee:
Chorus:
Oh —I don’t want my cave—man to caress me,
Oh I don’t want no coal—black heads to press me.
All I want is a fellow who wears suspenders,
That’ll be the coon to whom this babe surenders.
For the man I wed must have a proper trouseau.
On none of your fig—leaf dudes will make me do so.
For it’s funny how I feel, But I’m crazy for socks appeal
And my dream is to marry a man with a pair of socks.
Other works by Robert W. Service...
