| My name is Tom I own a queensland pub
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| There’s bundy on the shelf and the ice is in the tub
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| No lemon lime and bitters just bundy and fourex
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| If they wreck the joint tonight i’ll ring their flamin necks
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| There are so many songs about ringers out hell raisen
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| But what about the bloke who pulls the beers
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| When they’ve all gone I’m still out wipen tables
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| When they’ve all hit the hay while i’m still here
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| I’m the bloke you never hear of servin beer
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| I give change to the fellas if they want a game of pool
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| Got pies in the oven mate when the weathers gettin' cool
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| If the boys get rowdy and decide to have a scrap
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| I just chuck em out the door and i go back to the taps
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| My name is tom I’m a diplomatic thinker
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| I can listen to the woes of a broken hearted drinker
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| When the boys come in i say how ya goin' tonight
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| They get a bit wild but they’re young and alright
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| They tell me how to break a horse and how to brand a steer
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| I take their dough and listen cause that is why i’m here
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| They tell me bout musterin but they don’t seem to know
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| That tom their local publican did that years ago
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| When they’ve all hit the hay while I’m still here
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| I’m the bloke you never hear of servin beer |