Johnny Jones, why do you do it?
Those who throw stones
Surely will rue it;
Little of pleasure, evil may flow,
Mischief past measure comes of a blow.
Yes, yes! stone flinging.
Laugh as you may,
Woe may be bringing
Upon you some day.
Someone is watching,
Armed by the law,
Truncheon from pocket
Soon he will draw.
Off he will march you--
Dreadful to think!--to a dark prison:
Light through a chink,
Bread without butter, water for drink.