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Jug of Punch 'Twas early, early, in the month of June I was sitting with my glass and spoon. A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch. CHO: Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie (repeat last two lines of verse) If I were sick, and very bad And were not able to go or stand, I would not think it at all amiss To pledge my shoes for a jug of punch. CHO: What more diversion can a man desire Than to sit him down by a snug turf fire, Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon his table a jug of punch. CHO: And when I'm dead and in my grave No costly tombstone will I have, I'll dig a grave both wide and deep With a jug of punch at my head and feet. Recorded by Clancys, Galvin RG
Thanks to Mudcat for the Digital Tradition!