It′s lonesome away from your kindred and all By the camp fire at night, Where the wild dingos call. But there's nothin′ 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 There's a far away look on the face of the bum But the maids got all cranky and The cooks acting queer What a terrible place, is a pub with no beer. Then the stockman walks up with his dry dusty throat He presses up to the bar and pulls a wad from his coat. But the smile on his face quickly turns to a snear When the barman says sadly, "The pubs got no beer." There′s a dog on the veranda for his master he waits But the boss is inside drinkin' wine with his mates. He hurries for cover, he cringes in fear It′s no place for a dog, Around a pub with no beer. Then Billy the Blacksmith, the first time in his life Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife He walks in the kitchen she says your early my dear He breaks down and he tells her The pub′s got no beer. So it′s lonesome away from your kindred and all By the camp fire at night, Where the wild dingos call. But there's nothin′ so lonesome Morbid or drear, Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer.
