End Of The Pub - Slim Dusty

Now in my moleskin trousers and my Williams boots
Aboard an outlaw as he leaves the chutes
In my goose neck spurs I rake their fiery hide
And the girls all shouting around the ringside
Oh he's the Feller from Cunnamulla
Yeah he's the Cunnamulla Feller
Now I've done a little fightin' in the western bars
Done a little lovin' neath the moon and stars
I wear bright clothes and shirts full of colour
And the girls know me as that certain feller
Oh I'm the Feller from Cunnamulla
Oh I'm the Cunnamulla Feller
Yes I'm the Cunnamulla Feller
Oh they call me Cunnamulla Feller
Oh the dingoes are howling with the hiccups tonight
Out where the tall timbers wave
The swagmen are having a real old time jag
Round the campfire they rant and they rave
Stockmen and drovers and jackaroos too
Are in town tonight for a spree
The publican reckons they're suffered enough
So he's turning the beer on for free
The swaggy came in with a smile on his face
And asked for a splash in the can
The boss shouted out to the barman at work
Fill up that jug for the man
He grabbed up the tankard and swallowed the lot
And then put both hands to his side
But he just couldn't take it
The shock was too great
He fell on the floor there and died Hey
Old billy the blacksmith is with us no more
He's sleeping the sleep of the just
He hid in the cellar the day the beer came
And went on a glorious bust
He drank a nine gallon 'twixt dark and the dawn
And then staggered home to his wife
As he fell in the kitchen she picked up the gun
And so ended the old feller's life
We laid him to rest where the stringybarks waved
In the cemetry down by the creek
And then rolled a few barrels down onto his grave
And went on the binge for a week
When the last keg was emptied
We wrote on a cross for strangers to read as they
Passed
Here lies the old blacksmith he died as he lived
Full as a boot to the last Hey
Now in those dull days when the pub had no beer
I started to save up my pelt
Now the beer's flowing freely I'm like all the rest
Back in the doghouse myself
Oh the dogs round the pubs now are all sleek and fat
They lollip around at their ease
Where all they once got was a kick in the ribs
Some pubs now have planted them trees
Oh it's lonesome out there in the spare room at night
And although I know it sounds queer
But I'd rather be there with my headaches and all
Than a bar of a pub with no beer