‘Grandpa!’ cried Charlie. ‘Listen to them, Grandpa! What are they doing?’
‘Ssshh!’ whispered Grandpa Joe. ‘I think they’re going to sing us a song!’
‘Augustus Gloop!’ chanted the Oompa-Loompas.
‘Augustus Gloop! Augustus Gloop!
The great big greedy nincompoop!
How long could we allow this beast
To gorge and guzzle, feed and feast
On everything he wanted to?
Great Scott! It simply wouldn’t do!
However long this pig might live,
We’re positive he’d never give
Even the smallest bit of fun
Or happiness to anyone.
So what we do in cases such
As this, we use the gentle touch,
And carefully we take the brat
And turn him into something that
Will give great pleasure to us all —
A doll, for instance, or a ball,
Or marbles or a rocking horse.
But this revolting boy, of course,
Was so unutterably vile,
So greedy, foul, and infantile,
He left a most disgusting taste
Inside our mouths, and so in haste
We chose a thing that, come what may,
Would take the nasty taste away.
“Come on!” we cried. “The time is ripe
To send him shooting up the pipe!
He has to go! It has to be!”
And very soon, he’s going to see
Inside the room to which he’s gone
Some funny things are going on.
But don’t, dear children, be alarmed;
Augustus Gloop will not be harmed,
Although, of course, we must admit
He will be altered quite a bit.
He’ll be quite changed from what he’s been,
When he goes through the fudge machine:
Slowly, the wheels go round and round,
The cogs begin to grind and pound;
A hundred knives go slice, slice, slice;
We add some sugar, cream, and spice;
We boil him for a minute more,
Until we’re absolutely sure
That all the greed and all the gall
Is boiled away for once and all.
Then out he comes! And now! By grace!
A miracle has taken place!
This boy, who only just before
Was loathed by men from shore to shore,
This greedy brute, this louse’s ear,
Is loved by people everywhere!
For who could hate or bear a grudge
Against a luscious bit of fudge?’
‘I told you they loved singing!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Aren’t they delightful? Aren’t they charming? But you mustn’t believe a word they said. It’s all nonsense, every bit of it!’
‘Are the Oompa-Loompas really joking, Grandpa?’ asked Charlie.
‘Of course they’re joking,’ answered Grandpa Joe. ‘They must be joking. At least, I hope they’re joking. Don’t you?’
18
Down the Chocolate River
‘Off we go!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘Hurry up, everybody! Follow me to the next room! And please don’t worry about Augustus Gloop. He’s bound to come out in the wash. They always do. We shall have to make the next part of the journey by boat! Here she comes! Look!’
A steamy mist was rising up now from the great warm chocolate river, and out of the mist there appeared suddenly a most fantastic pink boat. It was a large open row boat with a tall front and a tall back (like a Viking boat of old), and it was of such a shining sparkling glistening pink colour that the whole thing looked as though it were made of bright, pink glass. There were many oars on either side of it, and as the boat came closer, the watchers on the riverbank could see that the oars were being pulled by masses of Oompa-Loompas — at least ten of them to each oar.
‘This is my private yacht!’ cried Mr Wonka, beaming with pleasure. ‘I made her by hollowing out an enormous boiled sweet! Isn’t she beautiful! See how she comes cutting through the river!’
The gleaming pink boiled-sweet boat glided up to the riverbank. One hundred Oompa-Loompas rested on their oars and stared up at the visitors. Then suddenly, for some reason best known to themselves, they all burst into shrieks of laughter.
‘What’s so funny?’ asked Violet Beauregarde.
‘Oh, don’t worry about them!’ cried Mr Wonka. ‘They’re always laughing! They think everything’s a colossal joke! Jump into the boat, all of you! Come on! Hurry up!’
As soon as everyone was safely in, the Oompa-Loompas pushed the boat away from the bank and began to row swiftly downriver.