Johnny

Out in the wood
 Where the children play
 The children play
 The children play
 Out in the wood
 Where the children play
 The cock crows every morning
 All of the boys
 In their skeleton suits
 Had gathered round
 A mound of roots
 Muddy the cross
 As black as their boots
 Planted and bloodied and warning
 Pale little bonnets
 They tried to peek
 They tried to peek
 They tried to peek
 Pale little bonnets
 They tried to peek
 The cock crows every morning
 Tell us, o brothers
 What does not sleep
 But hides under
 The cross's keep?
 Small is the grave
 and none too deep
 Who are we, brothers, here mourning?
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny can't be saved
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
 Each of the boys
 Made his hand a spade
 His hand a spade
 His hand a spade
 Each of the boys
 Made his hand a spade
 The cock crows every morning
 They fell in a heap
 To claw the mud
 That dyed their knees
 And sleeves in rud
 Shovelled until
 The ground bore blood
 With all the blowflies swarming
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny can't be saved
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny can't be saved
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
 Poked at the grave
 'Til it bared its bones
 It bared it's bones
 It bared it's bones
 Poked at the grave
 'Til it bared its bones
 The cock crows every morning
 Finches and meadowlark
 Fowl and wren
 With twisted beaks
 And eyes of tin
 Feathers as red
 As an Indian's skin
 Savage and painted and warring
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny can't be saved
 Where, o where is quiet Johnny?
 Quiet Johnny, quiet grave
 Johnny was quiet
 And odd and grim
 And odd and grim
 And odd and grim
 None of us do
 Ever talk to him
 The cock crows every morning