“JOHNSON'S BOY”

The world is turned ag'in’ me,

And people says, “They guess

That nothin’ else is in me

But pure maliciousness!”

I git the blame for doin’

What other chaps destroy,

And I'm a-goin’ to ruin

Because I'm “Johnson's boy.”

THAT ai n't my name — I'd ruther

They'd call me IKE or PAT —

But they've forgot the other —

And so have I, for that!

I reckon it's as handy,

When Nibsy breaks his toy,

Or some one steals his candy,

To say‘ twas “JOHNSON'S BOY!”

You can n't git any water

At the pump, and find the spout

So durn chuck-full o’ mortar

That you have to bore it out;

You tackle any scholar

In Wisdom's wise employ,

And I'll bet you half a dollar

He'll say it's “Johnson's boy!”

Folks do n't know how I suffer

In my uncomplainin’ way —

They think I'm gittin’ tougher

And tougher every day.

Last Sunday night, when Flinder

Was a-shoutin’ out for joy,

And some one shook the winder,

He prayed for “Johnson's boy.”

I'm tired of bein’ follered

By farmers every day,

And then o’ bein’ collared

For coaxin’ hounds away;

Hounds always plays me double —

It's a trick they all enjoy —

To git me into trouble,

Because I'm “Johnson's boy.”

But if I git to Heaven,

I hope the Lord'll see

SOME boy has been perfect,

And lay it on to me;

I'll swell the song sonorous,

And clap my wings for joy,

And sail off on the chorus —

“Hurrah for‘ Johnson's boy!’”