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lirik lagu the pub still makes a quid - slim dusty

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where has the brumbie~breaker gone, the man who lived by luck?
well, chances are, he’s moved to town and drives a council truck
ah, the smithies and the saddlers have taken to the track
the stockmen now ride motorbikes when they muster mobs out back

the northern runs are owned by yanks, they bought up every head
the rivers are polluted, and the barramundi’s dead
the old~time ringers are no more in the stock~camps further out
and half their scrubbers drowned in flood, and the rest died in a drought

but they drink it down and nearly drowned, as fast as they ever did
only one thing hasn’t changed out back––the pubs still make a quid

the swaggies never boil their billies by the billabong
and shearers camp in caravans, and seldom sing a song
along the stock~routes of the north, the bright stars overhead
drovers camp in city~style, with white sheets on the bed

the kangaroos have fled the plain, and gone is the dingo dog
the wallabies have left the hill, and the buffalo from the bog
and a motel stands upon the spot where a bush ranger once hid
only one thing hasn’t changed out back––the pubs still make a quid

but they drink it down and nearly drowned, as fast as they ever did
only one thing hasn’t changed out back––the pubs still make a quid
the station homestead is a wreck, and the waterholes are dry
and cattle leave their sorry bones beneath a deadly sky
and the jackaroo rolled up his swag, he didn’t like the grub
and now he’s workin’ overtime at some flea~bitten pub

yeah, they drink it down and nearly drowned, as much as they ever did
only one thing hasn’t changed out back––the pubs still make a quid

(yodeling)


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