The world is turned ag'in' me, <br />And people says, 'They guess <br />That nothin' else is in me <br />But pure maliciousness!' <br />I git the blame for doin' <br />What other chaps destroy, <br />And I'm a-goin' to ruin <br />Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.' <br /> <br />THAT ain't my name--I'd ruther <br />They'd call me IKE or PAT-- <br />But they've forgot the other-- <br />And so have _I_, for that! <br />I reckon it's as handy, <br />When Nibsy breaks his toy, <br />Or some one steals his candy, <br />To say 'twas 'JOHNSON'S BOY!' <br /> <br />You can't git any water <br />At the pump, and find the spout <br />So durn chuck-full o' mortar <br />That you have to bore it out; <br />You tackle any scholar <br />In Wisdom's wise employ, <br />And I'll bet you half a dollar <br />He'll say it's 'Johnson's boy!' <br /> <br />Folks don't know how I suffer <br />In my uncomplainin' way-- <br />They think I'm gittin' tougher <br />And tougher every day. <br />Last Sunday night, when Flinder <br />Was a-shoutin' out for joy, <br />And some one shook the winder, <br />He prayed for 'Johnson's boy.' <br /> <br />I'm tired of bein' follered <br />By farmers every day, <br />And then o' bein' collared <br />For coaxin' hounds away; <br />Hounds always plays me double-- <br />It's a trick they all enjoy-- <br />To git me into trouble, <br />Because I'm 'Johnson's boy.' <br /> <br />But if I git to Heaven, <br />I hope the Lord'll see <br />SOME boy has been perfect, <br />And lay it on to me; <br />I'll swell the song sonorous, <br />And clap my wings for joy, <br />And sail off on the chorus-- <br />'Hurrah for 'Johnson's boy!''<br /><br />James Whitcomb Riley<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/johnson-s-boy/
