My Willowware plate has a
story,
Pictorial, painted in blue.
From the land of tea and
the tea plant.
And the little brown man
with a queue.
Whatever the food you serve,
daughter
Romance enters into the
feast,
If you only pay heed to
the legend,
On the old china plate from
the East.
Koong Shee was a mandarin’s
daughter
And Chang was her lover,
ah me,
For surely her father’s
accountant
Might never wed pretty Koong
Shee.
So Chang was expelled
from the compound,
The lover’s alliance to
break,
And pretty Koong Shee was
imprisoned
In a little blue house by
the lake.
The Doughty old mandarin
reasoned
It was time that his daughter
should wed,
And the groom of his choosing
should banish,
That silly romance from
her head.
In symbols the dress she
should wear,
Her headband of scarlet
lay waiting,
She should ride in a gold
wedding chair.
He was busily plotting
and planning,
When a message was brought
him one day,
Young Chang had invaded
the palace,
And taken his sweetheart
away.
They were over the bridge
when he saw them,
They were passing the big
willow tree,
And a boat at the edge of
the water,
Stood waiting for Chang
and Koong Shee.
The furious mandarin followed,
The groom with revenge in
his eyes,
But the little boat danced
on the water
And traveled away with the
prize.
But vengeance pursued
to their shelter
And burned the pagoda, they
say
From out of the flames rose
the lovers
A pair of doves winging
away.
They flew toward the western
heaven
The pretty Koong Shee and
her Chang
Or so says the famous old
legend
From the land of the Yangtze
Kiang.
I wouldn’t be one to deny
it,
For the little blue dove
and her mate
Forever are flying together
Across my Willow ware plate
