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 had been there before: he had wandered down

 

On a previous visit to Walgett town.