Now little Dinky John
He was his Daddy's son
He was his Mama's loving pride
Those he was only five
He wore a forty-five
A toy forty five at his side
Like every little boy
He had a favorite toy
And Dinky's favorite was his gun
It made him feel so proud
To shoot his pistol loud
His cowboy hat and boots
They were fun
Then one sunny day
Dinky went to play
For he had found his Daddy's gun
He picked it up with pride
And swung it to his side
Off to shoot an Indian
Then Dinky slipped and fell
His Mama heard him yell
She came running to his side
And there on the ground
His Daddy's gun she found
It lay smoking at his side
Now Mama don't tell Dad
It might make him mad
Cause I was playing with his gun
Now listen little boys
When you play with toys
Be sure it's not your Daddy's gun
Oh Dinky John
Dinky
Uh oh Dinky John
Thank you hear me calling you
Calling you Dinky John
Calling you Dinky John
Calling you Dinky John
