This was given to song collector Tom Munnelly in the early 1970s by a County Clare farmer who had bought it twenty years or so earlier from a Traveller at a horse fair in Kerry.
Tom reckoned it was possibly one of the last 'ballads' to be produced in Ireland.
'Ballads' were song sheets sold at fairs and markets throughout Ireland; they were the last remnants of the broadside trade and were almost exclusive to Travellers who would get them printed in batches, often by reciting the words over the counter to a local printer (most Travellers didn't read).
BTW - a Garda is an Irish policeman
Jim Carroll         

THE BAR WITH NO STOUT
Now we've heard quite lot of the Pub with no Beer,
And some people claim it's the hit of the year,
But during the war I was rambling about,
And I called for a Pint in a Bar with no Stout.

The bar owner sat on a chair by the fire,
I'd swear if you touched him he'd scrape like a briar,
When I said "Fill a Pint" then his rag he got out.
Saying "Your order is tall in the Bar with no Stout".

A customer came in a donkey and car,
He tied up his ass and took in a big jar.
But the ass jumped and reared, from the door he pulled out,
It's no place for an ass near a Bar with no Stout.

The Garda on duty the first time in years,
Came back from his beat all shaken with fears,
The Sergeant said Pat, why you look knocked about,
He stammered and told him the Bars got no Stout.

The Postman returned from his rounds on the street,
And when he had entered his time on the sheet,
The Postmaster seeing no froth round his mouth,
Guessed on the spot that the Bar had no Stout.

Now 'tis lonesome to part with the one you love dear,
Or to sit on a stool in a Pub with no Beer
But there's nothing more lonesome without any doubt.
Than to call for a Pint in a Bar with no Stout.

Copyright by Cuthbertson Printer, Listowel