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 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