| Well I’ve listened with patience to all your sad tales
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| When you’re short of a smoke or the pub’s got not ale
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| But tell me fair dinkum, I don’t want you to kid
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| Have you ever been sipping and short of a quid
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| Have you been to strange town in search of job
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| Where a stranger’s not welcome by the local born mob
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| You’ve probably done the same thing as I did
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| Stood around in the bar and was short of a quid
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| As I gazed at the drinkers all quenching their thirst
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| My lips were so dry I thought they would burst
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| I reckoned someone would notice but no-body did
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| Theyve apparently never been short of a quid
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| The publican’s looks were black as the night
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| And I heard someone whisper, this blokes on the bite
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| So I held up my wrist-watch and called for a bid
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| But no one would buy it or lend me a quid
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| Oh you blokes who have money to travel in style
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| May laugh at my story but I too can smile
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| To the traveller and the drifter I’ll raise my old head
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| Cause they know what its like to be short of a quid
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| Well I’ve listened with patience to all your sad tales
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| When you’re short of a smoke, or the pubs got no ale
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| But tell me you Gypsies I don’t want you to kid
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| Have you ever been travelling short of a quid |