There came a stranger to Walgett town, <br />To Walgett town when the sun was low, <br />And he carried a thirst that was worth a crown, <br />Yet how to quench it he did not know; <br />But he thought he might take those yokels down, <br />The guileless yokels of Walgett town. <br />They made him a bet in a private bar, <br />In a private bar when the talk was high, <br />And they bet him some pounds no matter how far <br />He could pelt a stone, yet he could not shy <br />A stone right over the river so brown, <br />The Darling River at Walgett town. <br /> <br />He knew that the river from bank to bank <br />Was fifty yards, and he smiled a smile <br />As he trundled down; but his hopes they sank, <br />For there wasn’t a stone within fifty mile; <br />For the saltbush plain and the open down <br />Produce no quarries in Walgett town. <br /> <br />The yokels laughed at his hopes o’erthrown, <br />And he stood awhile like a man in a dream; <br />Then out of his pocket he fetched a stone, <br />And pelted it over the silent stream – <br />He’d been there before; he had wandered down <br />On a previous visit to Walgett town.<br /><br />Andrew Barton Paterson<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/been-there-before/
