The Jug of Punch Lyrics
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"
What more diversion can a man desire
Than to sit him down by a snug turf fire?
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 snuggled 'side a jug of punch
And if I get drunk, well the money's me own
And them that 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
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by Mike Breen