The Jug of Punch
Altan
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Being on the twenty-third of June Oh as I sat weaving all at my loom Being on the twenty-third of June Oh as I sat weaving all at my loom I heard a thrush singing on yon bush And the song she sang was the jug of punch What more pleasure can a boy desire Than sitting down, oh beside the fire What more pleasure can a boy desire Than sitting down, oh beside the fire And in his hand, oh a jug of punch And on his knee a tidy wench When I am dead and left in my mold At my head and feet place a flowing bowl When I am dead and left in my mold At my head and feet place a flowing bowl And every young man that passes by He can have a drink and remember I Being on the twenty-third of June Oh as I sat weaving all at my loom Being on the twenty-third of June Oh as I sat weaving all at my loom I heard a thrush singing on yon bush And the song she sang was the jug of punch
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Written by: TRADITIONAL, J BAIRD, PD TRADITIONAL
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"The Jug of Punch Lyrics." Lyrics.com. STANDS4 LLC, 2024. Web. 14 May 2024. <https://www.lyrics.com/lyric/2849370/Altan/The+Jug+of+Punch>.
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