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 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!''