Irish Songbook
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87 lines
1.8 KiB

One pleasent evening in the month of June,
As I was sleeping in my room,
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch,
And the song he sang was The Jug Of Punch.
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{A small bird sang on an ivy bunch,}
\textbf{And the song he sang was the jug of punch.}
\bigskip
What more diveration can a man desire,
Than to sit him by an alehouse fire,
Upon his knee a pritty wench,
And on the table a jug of punch.
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Upon his knee a pritty wench,}
\textbf{And on the table a jug of punch.}
\bigskip
Let the doctors come with all their art
They'll make no impression upon me heart
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
When he's snug outside of a jug of punch
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Even the cripple forgets his hunch}
\textbf{When he's snug outside of a jug of punch.}
\bigskip
If I get drunk, well, me money's me own,
And them 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.
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{I'll tune me fiddle and I'll rosin me bow}
\textbf{And I'll be welcome wherever I go.}
\bigskip
And when I'm dead and I'm in me grave
No costly tombstone will I crave.
Lay me down by me native peat,
With a jug of punch at me head and feet.
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Too-ra loo-ra loo, too-ra loo-ra lay,}
\textbf{Lay me down by me native peat,}
\textbf{With a jug of punch at me head and feet.}