Ive done with joys an misery,
An why should I repine?
Theres no one knows the past but me
An that ol dog o mine.
We camp an walk an camp an walk,
An find it fairly good;
He can do anything but talk,
An he wouldnt if he could.
We sits an thinks beside the fire,
With all the stars a-shine,
An no one knows our thoughts but me
An that there dog o mine.
We has our Johnny-cake an scrag,
An finds em fairly good;
He can do anything but talk,
An he wouldnt if he could.
He gets a possum now an then,
I cooks it on the fire;
He has his water, me my tea,
What more could we desire?
He gets a rabbit when he likes,
We finds it pretty good;
He can do anything but talk,
An he wouldnt if he could.
I has me smoke, he has his rest,
When sunsets gettin dim;
An if I do get drunk at times,
Its all the same to him.
So longs hes got me swag to mind,
He thinks that times is good;
He can do anything but talk,
An he wouldnt if he could.
He gets his tucker from the cook,
For cook is good to him,
An when I sobers up a bit,
He goes an has a swim.
He likes the rivers where I fish,
An all the world is good;
He can do anything but talk,
An he wouldnt if he could.
Down The River
Henry Lawson
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