There came a stranger to Walgett town,To Walgett town when the sun was low,And he carried a thirst that was worth a crown,Yet how to quench it he did not know;But he thought he might take those yokels down,The guileless yokels of Walgett town.
They made him a bet in a private bar,In a private bar when the talk was high,And they bet him some pounds no matter how farHe could pelt a stone, yet he could not shyA stone right over the river so brown,The Darling river at Walgett town.
He knew that the river from bank to bankWas fifty yards, and he smiled a smileAs he trundled down, but his hopes they sankFor there wasn't a stone within fifty mile;For the saltbush plain and the open downProduce no quarries in Walgett town.
The yokels laughed at his hopes o'erthrown,And he stood awhile like a man in a dream;Then out of his pocket he fetched a stone,And pelted it over the silent stream—He had been there before: he had wandered downOn a previous visit to Walgett town.