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Hazel Whyte
| Jug Of Punch |
| Celtic Songs and Traditional Ballads |
| Modern and Traditional Folk Music |
| JUG OF PUNCH It being on the twenty-third of June-o As I sat weaving all on my loom I heard a thrush singing on yon bush And the song she sang was a jug of punch Ladderly fol the dee Ladderly fol the dee deedle eedel dum Dithery idle dum dithery idle deedle dum Dithery idle dum dithery idle deedle dum Dithery idle deedle eedle eedle dum dum dee What more pleasure could a boy desire Than to sit him down-o, beside the fire And in his hand-o a jug of punch Aye, and on his knee-o, a tidy wench What more hardships could a boy desire Than sit him down-o behind the door And in his hand-o no jug of punch Aye, and on his knee-o, no tidy wench When I am dead, all my drinking's o'er I'll drink one glass and I'll drink no more For fear I mightn't get it on that day I will drink it now and I'll drink away When I am dead and left in my mould At my head and feet place a flowing bowl And every young man that passes by He can have a drink and remember I |
| Please note that some lyrics on this site may be regarded as "controversial" The fact that these lyrics are available here is NOT an endorsement of their content, it merely reflects a right to free speech and a respect to the right of the same by others. |
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