A Pub With No Beer

Oh 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 Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come There's a faraway look on the face of the bum The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's 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!" 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!" 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 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, Bill dear" Then he breaks down and he tells her that the pub's got no beer So 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