Where the hills roll away, from a small country town,
There are hearts filled with sorrow as the word spread around,
And the jackass won't laugh, as there's no jokes to hear,

So let me tell you the reason for the pub with no beer.

Broken down on the track, 'cos he stripped out the gear

There's the old grey blitz wagon, the one with the beer
And the driver's near mad, standin' scratchin' his ear,
He knows just what they're thinkin', at the pub with no beer.


When the drover rides out and draws straight by the truck
He joins in with the driver and curses their luck,

"Where's Billy the blacksmith, we could do with him here"
But Bill's moved on to Grafton where the brewery stands near,


So the drover rides back, with a brilliant idea,
He rides hard in the saddle 'til the town's drawin' near,
He dismounts in the lane and the dog cringes near,

And the swaggie's just leavin' the pub with no beer.

There's exitement all round as the drover tells where,

The old blitzen bus is, on the plain way out there,
'Every man that can ride." says the drover to all,
"Saddle up, lets get movin', and bring back the haul."


When the boys rode back in, what a strange sight they made,
They charged into the pound, like the old light brigade,

With tow ropes and tackle, they all pulled as one
And the old blitz moved faster than she ever had done.


Soon the kegs were rolled in, one was placed on the bar,
It filled all the glasses, every jug and each jar
Then the word passed around, and they all gave a cheer,

And there was laughter once more, in the pub with no beer.