#00369
The Pub With No Beer (Gordon Parsons) tabs, MIDI, videos
See also: A Pub With No Beer (Dan Sheahan)
And also: How The Pub Without Beer Came To Be Written
#655: YouTube video by oldirishladdie ©2009
~ Used with permission ~

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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, so morbid or drear,
Than to stand in a bar of a pub with no beer.

Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come,
There's a faraway look on the face of the bum;
The maid's gone all cranky, and the cook's acting queer,
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, pulls a wad from his coat;
But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer,
When the barman says sadly, the pub's got no beer.

There's a dog on the 'randa-h, for his master he waits,
But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates;
He hurries for cover and cringes in fear,
It's no place for a dog 'round a pub with no beer.

Old Billy the blacksmith, first time in his life,
Has gone home cold sober to his darling wife;
He walks in the kitchen, she says you're early, me dear,
But he breaks down and tells her, the pub's got no beer.

####.... Gordon Parsons, inspired By Dan Sheahan (See Below). First recorded in 1957 by Slim Dusty (David Gordon Kilpatrick) ....####
The variant in the video above features a recording by Harry Hibbs (Fourth, trk#1, 1970, Arc Sound Ltd, Toronto, Ontario).

See more songs by Harry Hibbs.

The variant in the video below features a performance by John Walsh, a teacher and member of the Hong Kong Folk Society and the Hong Kong Welsh Male Voice Choir.

#246: YouTube video by raymondcrooke ©2007
~ Used with permission ~

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Notes On Tabs:
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All tabs have been contributed by visitors to this site and represent their interpretation of the tune. We are unable to verify their accuracy.

[G] It's lonesome away from your [Am] kindred and all,
By the [D] campfire at night where the wild dingoes [G] call;
But [G] there's nothing so lonesome, so [Am] morbid or drear,
Than to [D] stand in a bar of a [Am] pub with no [G] beer.

A Pub Without Beer (The Original)
Click here to go up to Gordon Parsons' variant.

It is lonely away from your kindred and all,
In the bushland at night when the warrigals call;
It is sad by the sea where the wild breakers boom,
Or to look on a grave and contemplate doom;
But there's nothing on earth half as lonely and drear,
As to stand in the bar of a pub without beer.

Madam with her needles sits still by the door,
The boss smokes in silence - he is joking no more;
There's a faraway look on the face of the hum,
While the barmaid glares down at the paint of her thumb.

Once it stood by the wayside, all stately and proud,
'Twas a home to the loafers - a joy to the crowd;
Now all silent the roof-tree that oftentimes rang,
When the navvies were paid and the cane-cutters sang;
Some are sleeping their last in the land far from here,
And I feel all alone in a pub without beer.

They can hang to their coupons for sugar and tea,
And the shortage of sandshoes does not worry me;
And though benzine and razors be both frozen stiff,
What is wrong with the horse and the old-fashioned ziff?
'Mid the worries of war there's but one thing I fear,
'Tis to stand in the bar of a pub without beer.

Oh, you brew of brown barley, what charm is thine?
'Neath thy spell men grow happy and cease to repine;
The cowards become brave and the weak become strong,
The dour and the grumpy burst forth into song;
If there's aught to resemble high heaven down here,
'Tis the place of joy where they ladle out beer.

####.... Original version by Dan Sheahan ....####
How The Pub Without Beer Came To Be Written
Click here to go up to Gordon Parsons' variant.

Click here to go up to Dan Sheahan's original.

One day in the town at the time of the blitz,
So dry I was spitting out threepenny bits;
I went to the pub and I called for a "pot",
But I found that the yankees had gobbled the lot.

The boss was laid out in his favourite chair,
And writ on his dial was a look of despair;
Madam and young Flossie looked languid and faint,
All gone was the glamour, the powder and paint.

The yardman had left with a rope and a knife,
Reports had come in he had taken his life;
The cook and the slushie were out at the back,
They both had gone down to a nervous attack.

Old Billy, the hum, he lay under a tree,
The poor fellow "had it", 'twas easy to see;
He was not improving, 'twas just the reverse,
We'd soon see him sailing away in the hearse.

The dog with a sorrowful look on his face,
Kept moping and mooning all over the place;
He sat on his tail and he looked up at me,
And started to wail like an Irish Banshee.

I raced to the water and turned on the tap,
And drank as I swore at the Hun and the Jap;
Sez I to myself - "Better get out of here,
What good is a town when the pub has no beer?"

####.... Dan Sheahan ....####
Click here to go up to Gordon Parsons' variant.

Click here to go up to Dan Sheahan's original.



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