Sung to - Click Goes The Shears..
Next to the bar,
This old miner stands...
Grasping his beer,
With his thin bony hands...
Fixed is his gaze,
As his beer belly grows...
Glory when he gets pissed,
Won’t he make the bullshit flow...
Quick goes the beer boy’s,
Quick, quick, quick....
That’s why this wide mouth,
Of the can is so slick...
The barman looks around,
And there’s no one drinking slow....
And he curses these old miners,
That work for Ivanhoe...
In the middle of the bar,
Almost unawares...
Sits the boss who run the show,
With his eyes everywhere...
He notes all the drinkers,
As they come on to the scene...
Paying strict attention,
To that breathalyser machine...
Quick goes the beer boy’s,
Quick, quick, quick...
That’s why this wide mouth,
Of the can is so slick...
The barman looks around,
And there’s no one drinking slow...
And he curses these old miners,
That work for Ivanhoe...
There is this old man,
Who has no remorse...
With shiny belt buckle,
He is hung like a horse...
Gazing all around,
He looks for a score...
Sniffing out free beer,
From a mile or maybe more...
Quick goes the beer boy’s,
Quick, quick, quick...
That’s why this wide mouth,
Of the can is so slick...
The barman looks around,
And there’s no one drinking slow...
And he curses these old miners,
That work for Ivanhoe...
The bar girl is there,
She waiting in demand...
With her big tip jar,
In her scrawny little hands...
Spies one old bloke,
With carton on his back...
How about a tip before you leave,
This bloody bar there Jack...
Quick goes the beer boy’s,
Quick, quick, quick...
That’s why this wide mouth,
Of the can is so slick...
The barman looks around,
And there’s no one drinking slow...
And he curses these old miners,
That work for Ivanhoe...
Now the roster is all but over,
And we spent all our dough...
So now it’s time head off,
Back homeward we go...
The first day we come back,
We’ll have us a spree...
And if someone stuffs up big time,
The drinks will be on thee...
Quick goes the beer boy’s,
Quick, quick, quick...
That’s why this wide mouth,
Of the can is so slick...
The barman looks around,
And there’s no one drinking slow...
And he curses these old miners,
That work for Ivanhoe...
There will be always someone,
Who shouts their fellow man...
At the Mount Dore bar,
it’s the best in the land...
All eyes on the esky’s,
As the beer is going fast...
We work hard and we drink hard,
And we hope the beer will last...
Quick goes the beer boy’s,
Quick, quick, quick...
That’s why this wide mouth,
Of the can is so slick...
The barman looks around,
And there’s no one drinking slow...
And he curses these old miners,
That work for Ivanhoe...
Len Newey 2012