The Jug of Punch (Live)

One pleasant evening in the month of June
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was "The Jug of Punch"

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was "The Jug of Punch"

What more diversion can 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

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And on the table a jug of punch

Let the doctors come with all their art
They'll make no impression upon my heart
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
When he's snug outside of a jug of punch

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
When he's snug outside of a jug of punch

And if I get drunk well the money's me own
And if they don't like me they can leave me alone
I'll tune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow
And I'll be welcome wherever I go

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
I'll tune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow
And I'll be welcome wherever I go

And when I'm dead and in my grave
No costly tombstone will I have
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Too-ra-loo-ra-loo
Too-ra-loo-ra-ley
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet