The Pub With No Beer

It's lonesome away
from your kindred and all
By the camp fire at night
where the wild dingoes call,
But there's nothing so lonesome
so morbid or drear
Than to stand at the bar
of a pub with no beer.

Now the publican's anxious
for the quota to come
There's a far away 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.

Then the stock-man rides up
with his dry dusty throat
He breasts up to the bar,
pulls a wat from his coat,
But the smile on his face
quickly turns to a sneer,
When the bar man said sadly
the pub's got no beer.

There's a dog on the veranda
for his master he waits
But the boss is inside
drinking wine with his mates
He hurries for cover
and cringes in fear
It's no place for a dog
round a pub with no beer.

Old Billy the blacksmith
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,
But he breaks down and tells her
the pub's got no beer