The Jug of Punch
Author Unknown
One mornin' in the month of June
As I sat down with me jug and spoon
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was the jug of punch
Chorus:
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-lay-ra-lay
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-lay-ra-lay
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was the jug of punch
(chorus)
What more devotion could a man desire
Than to sit him down by an ale-house fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And on the table a jug of punch
(chorus)
Let the doctors come with all their art
They'll make no impression on my heart
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
When he's snug outside of a jug of punch
(chorus)
And if I get drunk well the money's me own
and if you don't like me, well leave me alone
I'll tune my fiddle and I'll rosin my bow
and I'll be welcome wherever I go
(chorus)
And when I'm dead and in my grave
No costly tombstone will I crave
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet
(chorus)
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This page ©1998 by Ulf Gunnarsson
Last Modified : June 11th, 1998
