Shock-headed blackfellow, 
Boy (on a pony). 
Snowflakes are falling 
Gentle and slow, 
Youngster says, "Frying Pan 
What makes it snow?" 

Frying Pan, confident, 
Makes the reply -- 
"Shake 'im big flour bag 
Up in the sky!" 

"What! when there's miles of it? 
Surely that's brag. 
Who is there strong enough 
Shake such a bag?" 

"What parson tellin' you, 
Ole Mister Dodd, 
Tell you in Sunday-School? 
Big pfeller God! 

"Him drive 'im bullock dray, 
Then thunder go; 
Him shake 'im flour bag -- 
Tumble down snow!"