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Poem	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 far He could pelt a stone, yet he could not shy A stone right over the river so brown, The Darling River at Walgett town. He knew that the river from bank to bank Was fifty yards, and he smiled a smile As he trundled down; but his hopes they sank, For there wasn’t a stone within fifty mile; For the saltbush plain and the open down Produce 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’d been there before; he had wandered down On a previous visit to Walgett town.
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