American Old Time Song Lyrics: 14 Over The Hills To The Bar Room

Theater, Music-Hall, Nostalgic, Irish & Historic Old Songs, Volume 14

Over the Hills to the Bar-Room.
Tune- "Over the Hills to the Poor-House."

Ah! me can it be that he's thrown
By the bartender out in the street,
There to be left all alone?
For he has no money to treat.
You can see by the light of the moon,
His nose that has blossomed so red;
It's over the hills to the bar-room
He wanders alone almost dead (drunk).

Chorus.
He's old and helpless, and feeble.
Hoping to get a hot ruin;
It's over the hills to the bar-room
He wanders alone, this poor bum.

It's over at that bar-room counter,
I stood alongside the free lunch;
No bummer was happier or fonder
Than I of my hot whiskey punch.
Oh, heaven! he's shaky and boozy,
His coat is all tattered and tore;
When the cop comes along he says, moosey.
And drives me away from the door. - Chorus.

It's long since I've had a square meal.
For I have no money to pay;
You people don't know how I feel
As I walk through the streets night and day.
If I tramp the whole city through,
The people will call me a tank;
The drinks that I pay for are few.
I'm known as a confirmed old rank.-Chorus.

Whenever I made the spondulix,
Right straight to the bar-room I went;
I'd sit down and talk about politics
Until I had spent every cent.
And when he saw I had no more.
He'd not listen to me; but, hark!
He'd put me through the back door,
And there let me lie in the dark.-Chorus.

Perhaps they'll be happier without me,
Good-bye, dear old bar-room, good-bye!
I've joined the temperance society,
To keep sober I'm going to try.
So you see I've given up drinking,
I'll not touch any more rum;
And in a short while, I am thinking,
The people won't call me a bum.-Chorus.