THE PUB WITH NO BEER

Well it's lonely away from your kindred and all
By the camp fire at night,
Where the wild dingos call.
But there's nothin' so lonesome
morbid or drear,
than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer.

Well the publican's anxious for the quota to come
there's a far away look on the face of the bum
the maids got all cranky and
and the cooks acting queer
Oh what a terrible place, a pub with no beer.

The stockman rides up with his dry dusty throat
He breasts up to the bar; pulls a wad from his coat.
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer
when the barman says sadly,
"The pub's got no beer."

Then the swaggie comes in smothered in dust and flies
He throws down his roll and rubs the sweat from his eyes
But when he is told, he says what's this I hear
I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer

There's a dog on the veranda, for his master he waits
But the boss is inside drinkin' WINE with his mates.
He hurries for cover and he cringes with fear
it's no place for a dog,
'round a pub with no beer.

Oh, Willie the Blacksmith, first time in his life
has gone home cold sober to his darling wife
he walks in the kitchen she says your early Bill dear
and he breaks down and he tells her
That the pub's got no beer.

Oh it's hard to believe that there's customers still
But the money's still tinkling in the old ancient till
The wine buffs are happy and I know they're sincere
When they say they don't care if the pub's got no beer