G C
Oh it’s lonesome away from your kindred and all
G Dm C
By the campfire at night where the wild dingoes call
C F
But there’s nothin’ so lonesome, morbid or drear
Gm Dm C
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer
G C
Now the publican’s anxious for the quota to come
G Dm C
There’s a faraway look on the face of the bum
C F
The maid’s gone all cranky and the cook’s acting queer
Gm Dm C
What a terrible place is a pub with no beer
G C
The stockman rides up with his dry, dusty throat
G Dm C
He breasts up to the bar, pulls a wad from his coat
C F
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer
Gm Dm C
When the barman says sadly, ‘The pub’s got no beer’
G C
Then in comes the swagman, all covered with flies
G G C
He throws down his roll, wipes the sweat from his eyes
C F
But when he is told he says, ‘What’s this I hear?
Gm Dm C
I’ve trudged fifty flamin’ miles to a pub with no beer!’
G C
There’s a dog on the v’randah, for his master he waits
G G C
But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates
C F
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear
Gm Dm C
It’s no place for a dog round a pub with no beer
G C
Old Billy, the blacksmith, the first time in his life
G G C
Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife
C F
He walks in the kitchen; she says: «You’re early, my dear»
Gm Dm C
Then he breaks down and he tells her that the pub’s got no beer
G C
Oh it’s lonesome away from your kindred and all
G Dm C
By the campfire at night where the wild dingoes call
C F
But there’s nothin’ so lonesome, morbid or drear
Gm Dm C
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer
Oh it’s lonesome away from your kindred and all
G Dm C
By the campfire at night where the wild dingoes call
C F
But there’s nothin’ so lonesome, morbid or drear
Gm Dm C
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer
G C
Now the publican’s anxious for the quota to come
G Dm C
There’s a faraway look on the face of the bum
C F
The maid’s gone all cranky and the cook’s acting queer
Gm Dm C
What a terrible place is a pub with no beer
G C
The stockman rides up with his dry, dusty throat
G Dm C
He breasts up to the bar, pulls a wad from his coat
C F
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer
Gm Dm C
When the barman says sadly, ‘The pub’s got no beer’
G C
Then in comes the swagman, all covered with flies
G G C
He throws down his roll, wipes the sweat from his eyes
C F
But when he is told he says, ‘What’s this I hear?
Gm Dm C
I’ve trudged fifty flamin’ miles to a pub with no beer!’
G C
There’s a dog on the v’randah, for his master he waits
G G C
But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates
C F
He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear
Gm Dm C
It’s no place for a dog round a pub with no beer
G C
Old Billy, the blacksmith, the first time in his life
G G C
Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife
C F
He walks in the kitchen; she says: «You’re early, my dear»
Gm Dm C
Then he breaks down and he tells her that the pub’s got no beer
G C
Oh it’s lonesome away from your kindred and all
G Dm C
By the campfire at night where the wild dingoes call
C F
But there’s nothin’ so lonesome, morbid or drear
Gm Dm C
Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer
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