It's lonesome away from your kindred and all By the campfire at night where the wild dingoes call But there's 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 faraway 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 swaggy 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" There's a dog on the verandah 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 Old 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 "You're early my dear" But then he breaks down and he tells her "The pub's got no beer" It's lonesome away from your kindred and all By the campfire at night where the wild dingoes call But there's nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer