A Pub With No Beer The Dubliners

Chorus:
Well 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
And there's a far away look on the face of the bum
The maids got all cranky and
And the cooks acting queer
What a terrible place, is a pub with no beer

Then the stockman rides 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
As the barman says sadly
"The pubs got no beer."

Then the swaggy comes in smoothered 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