Skip to main content
It's many a penny you'll pay to go
To a town beneath the skies,
Where a gentleman dwells whom you may know
By the name of Bonaparte Wyse.

I was a pote, and he was a pote,
In this town of merchandize:
And we laughed at jests profane to quote,
I and my Bonaparte Wyse,
We cracked our joke improper to quote,
I and my Bonaparte Wyse.

Chorus — Tol-loddi, tol-loddi;
Tol-le-loddi — tolloddi — tollieo.
Rate this poem
No votes yet
Reviews
No reviews yet.