A Pub With No Beer

Chorus:

Well it's lonesome 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.

Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come

and there's a far away look on the face of the bum

the maids got all cranky and

and the cooks acting queer

what a terrible place, is 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 suddenly: "The pub's got no beer!"

There's a dog on the verandah, for his master he waits

But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates

He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear

It's no place for a dog round a pub with no beer

Then in comes the swagman, all covered with flies

He throws down his roll, wipes 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!"

Old Billy, the blacksmith, the first time in his life

Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife

He walks in the kitchen; she says: "You're early, me dear"

Then he breaks down and he tells her that the pub's got no beer

It's lonesome away from your kindred and all

By the campfire at night where the wild dingos call

But there's nothin' so lonesome, so dull or so drear

Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer