Johnny's drowned — here's his clo'es
Where he's got to, we dunno;
Sure enough, he never rose;
So we thought we'd let you know.
Gosh! the fright has knocked us flat —
Here's his shirt, an' here's his hat.
Never seen him since he plopp'd,
Jist a'side the big red-gum;
So, thinks we, poor Johnny's copp'd —
All so suddent! — ain't it rum?
Must be snagg'd among the roots —
Here's his pants, an' socks, an' boots.
Simplest thing you ever seen —
Only just a common swim —
Cripes! it might as ready been
Me or Bill in place o' him!
Try to snake him out, I s'pose?
Anyway, we fetch'd his clo'es.
More verses by Joseph Furphy
- Glory To God; To Men Good Will!
- A Christmas Greeting To K.B.
- A Christmas Hymn
- A Psalm Of Councel
- A Psalm Of Subjection