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James Whitcomb Riley - "Johnson`s Boy"
Work rating: Low

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 ain`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`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 don`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!`"
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