Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song A Pub With No Beer, artist - Slim Dusty. Album song Slim Dusty! Australian Sing-Along 40 Favourites, in the genre Кантри
Date of issue: 16.10.2019
Record label: The Music Factory
Song language: English
A Pub With No Beer |
Oh it’s-a lonesome away from your kindred and all |
By the campfire at night we’ll hear the wild dingoes call |
But there’s-a nothing 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 maid’s gone all cranky and the cook’s acting queer |
Oh what a terrible place is a pub with no beer |
Then the stockman rides up with his dry dusty throat |
He breasts up to the bar and pulls a wad from his coat |
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer |
As the barman says sadly the pub’s got no beer |
Then the swaggie comes in smothered in dust and flies |
He throws down his roll and rubs 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 |
Now there’s a dog on the v’randa, 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 |
And old Billy the blacksmith, the first time in his life |
Why he’s gone home cold sober to his darling wife |
He walks in the kitchen, she says you’re early Bill dear |
But then he breaks down and tells her the pub’s got no beer |
Oh, Billy the blacksmith, rides home on his horse |
The cops bull him over, but he’s sober of course |
He blows in the bag and they all shed a tear |
It’s no place for a Booze bust 'round a pub with no beer |
Oh it’s hard to believe that there’s customers still |
But the money’s still tinkling in the old ancient till |
The wine buffs are happy and I know they’re sincere |
When they say they don’t care if the pub’s got no beer |
So it’s-a lonesome away from your kindred and all |
By the campfire at night we’ll hear the wild dingoes call |
But there’s-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear-a |