The Jug of Punch

歌詞

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 Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was a jug of punch 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 Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie I would not think it at all amiss To pledge my shoes for a 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 upon his table a jug of punch Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Toor-a-loora-la, toor-a-loora-lie Upon his knee a pretty wench And upon his table a jug of punch 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