The Bloke Behind The Bar
I’ll tell you a little story,
About some bloke that I had met...
At a local pub in Queensland,
Where a thirst I had to wet...
Jostling through the crowd,
My mouth began to drool...
As I made my way inside,
To the bar to grab a stool...
I’ll have a pot of gold mate,
Quickly if you please...
I’m so bloody dry,
I think I’m gone to seize...
The barman quickly served me,
This ice cold amber brew...
It hardly touched the sides,
I think it went straight through...
Then I had another,
And I introduced myself to him...
He shook me by the hand,
And said he name was Jim...
He said he had owned this pub,
For near on 20 years...
And he’s heard a lot of stories,
And he shed a lot of tears...
I’m the Ambassador of alcohol,
If ever there was a name...
It’s what you should be known as,
While working in this game...
I’m a barista of beer,
I’m the keeper of the kegs...
I’m there to help you out,
When you can’t stand on your legs...
I’m a marriage guidance councillor,
A referee of sorts...
I’ve even got the scores,
For all the local sports...
I cater for the crowds,
Serving counter meals at night...
Then selling raffle tickets,
To everyone in sight...
Who needs to Google,
When you got me at your service...
Throw a question at me,
Come on don’t be nervous...
Everyone comes with baggage,
When they enter in this place...
And I gladly take it from them,
To see their smiling face...
So you see I’m a lot of things,
Not just the bloke who serves the beer...
I think I deserve an award,
For publican of the year...
I said I must agree,
You have surely got my vote...
As you’ve really quenched my thirst,
In my dry and dusty throat...
So that is when I left him,
As I had to travel far...
This man they know as Jim,
The bloke behind the bar...
Len Newey 2012