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

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  • ocksblog  On December 13, 2011 at 10:42 am

    nice, the ballad form works well for this sort of topic I think.
    You’ve captured a lot of qualities of a good country pub

    • livingwithtwins  On December 13, 2011 at 11:07 am

      Thanks, sometimes a ballad just seem to fit together exactly the way I wanted it to. I wish I could write every one like this.

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