David Gordon Kirkpatrick, known professionally as Slim Dusty (13 June 1927 – 19 September 2003), was an Australian country music singer-songwriter who was an Australian cultural icon and one of the country's most awarded stars. He wrote songs in the legacy of Australian poets Henry Lawson and Banjo Paterson that represented the Australian bush lifestyle. Dusty was the first Australian to have a No. 1 international hit song with "A Pub with No Beer", which was also named as the fifth Best Australian Song of All Time by the Australian Performing Rights Association in 2001.

The Pub with No Beer

By Slim Dusty

(You can listen to the song here: https://youtu.be/8E0aZ387M_I)

Oh it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all He hurries for cover and he cringes in fear By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call It's no place for a dog 'round a pub with no beer But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear Than to stand in the bar of a pub with no beer And old Billy the blacksmith, the first time in his life Why he's gone home cold sober to his darling wife Now the publican's anxious for the quota to come He walks in the kitchen, she says you're early Bill dear And there's a far away look on the face of the bum But then he breaks down and tells her the pub's got no The maid's gone all cranky and the cook's acting queer beer Oh what a terrible place is a pub with no beer Oh, Billy the blacksmith, rides home on his horse Then the stockman rides up with his dry dusty throat The cops bull him over, but he's sober of course He breasts up to the bar and pulls a wad from his coat He blows in the bag and they all shed a tear But the smile on his face quickly turns to a sneer It's no place for a Booze bust 'round a pub with no beer As the barman says sadly the pub's got no beer Oh it's hard to believe that there's customers still Then the swaggie comes in smothered in dust and flies But the money's still tinkling in the old ancient till He throws down his roll and rubs the sweat from his eyes The wine buffs are happy and I know they're sincere But when he is told, he says what's this I hear When they say they don't care if the pub's got no beer I've trudged fifty flamin' miles to a pub with no beer So it's-a lonesome away from your kindred and all Now there's a dog on the v'randa, for his master he waits By the campfire at night we'll hear the wild dingoes call But the boss is inside drinking wine with his mates But there's-a nothing so lonesome, morbid or drear-a