There're shadows behind dusty bar-stools
of lips awkward with anticipation.
Bikies and beer over games of pool
Regulars shouting for their Nation.
There's the dressed up & the dressed downs,
Guzzling towards their upside-down frowns,
the hurling of abuse & waving of bottles
The energy of youth and oldies who hobbles,
There'll be good times for all I believe.