The Old Bush Pub

The old bush pub has seen some times I'll wager things were good When all it was, was sheets of tin and rough cut planks of wood When cattlemen tied up their steeds to posts along the street and spurs adorned the leather boots upon the drinkers feet When miners trod the dusty trails in search of fields of gold and swaggies thirsts were gladly quenched with beer the bush pub sold When drovers trails all ended here beneath the old tin roof and cockys came from miles around to drink the eighty proof Where granddad, Bob and Salty Bill all came to yarn and drink and yellow dogs from local farms beneath the pub would slink Where dad would stay past closing time still drinking with his mates and mum would soon come storming in 'Cos dad was always late Two generations lost to war once breasted at the bar and photographs around the walls remind us who they are What stories these old walls could tell if they could only speak But tales stay locked up safe inside the tin and polished teak Though things have come, and things have gone and much has changed about here, mates still get their wallets out when it's their turn to shout Through drought and flood and fire and rain the old pub stood the test and when it all is said and done the old bush pubs are best From my PDF book "Bush Ballads and Bulldust"