Joe Bo-Jingles

His name was Joe Bo-Jingles,
He lived on dreary lane.
Every time he skipped along,
He sounded just the same.

Ding-a-ling-a-ling from home,
Until the store he went.
Ring-a-ling, ding-a-ling,
Until he paid the gent.

Everybody knew him,
Through infamy, not fame.
The shows he put on in the streets,
Really were a shame.

He jingled here, and jangled there,
No one knew what he meant.
The man he very rarely spoke,
As if his voice were bent.

Alas one day he dissapeared,
The children asked where he'd gone.
And while in their hearts they held fear,
The elders hearts had gone up in song.