John Williamson Short Of A Quid
Well I've listened with patience to all your sad tales,
When you're short of a smoke or the pub's got not ale,
But tell me fair dinkum, I don't want you to kid,
Have you ever been sipping and short of a quid.
Have you been to strange town in search of job,
Where a stranger's not welcome by the local born mob.
You’ve probably done the same thing as I did,
Stood around in the bar and was short of a quid.
As I gazed at the drinkers all quenching their thirst,
My lips were so dry I thought they would burst.
I reckoned someone would notice but no-body did
They’ve apparently never been short of a quid.
The publican's looks were black as the night,
And I heard someone whisper, ‘this bloke’s on the
bite’’.
So I held up my wrist-watch and called for a bid,
But no one would buy it or lend me a quid.
Oh you blokes who have money to travel in style,
May laugh at my story but I too can smile.
To the ?traveller? and the drifter I’ll raise my old
head,
‘Cause they know what it’s like to be short of a quid.
Well I’ve listened with patience to all your sad tales,
When you’re short of a smoke, or the pub’s got no ale,
But tell me you Gypsies I don’t want you to kid,
Have you ever been travelling short of a quid.
