Slim Dusty
A Pub With No Beer
It's lonesome away, from your kindred and allBy the campfire at night, where the wild dingoes callBut there's nothing so lonesome, so morbid or drearThan to stand in a bar, of a pub with no beer Now the publicans anxious, for the quota to come There's a faraway look, on the face of the bumThe maids gone all cranky , and the cooks acting queerWhat a terrible place, is a pub with no beerThen the stockman rides up, with his dry dusty throatHe breasts up to the bar, pulls a wad from his coatBut the smile on has face, quickly turns to a sneerWhen the barman said sadly, the pubs got no beerThere's a dog on the v'randah, for his master he waitsBut the boss is inside, drinking wine with his matesHe hurries for cover, and cringes with fearIts no place for a dog, round a pub with no beerOld Billy the blacksmith, first time in his lifeHas gone home cold sober, to his darling wifeHe walks in the kitchen, she says your early my dearBut he breaks down and tells her, the pubs got no beer
From Letras Mania