a jug of punch lyrics

As I was sitting with my glass and spoon

One summer evening in the month of June;

The small birds sat on an ivy bunch

And the song they sang was the Jug of Punch.

What more diversion could a man require

Than to settle down by the ale-house fire,

With a fine red pippin to crack and crunch,

And on the table a jug of punch.

Let the doctors come with all their arts

They'll make no impression upon my heart

Even the cripple forgets his hunch

When he's snug outside of a jug of punch.

If I drink too much, well, my money's my own,

And them as don't like it can leave me alone;

But I'll tune my fiddle and I'll rosin my bow

And I'll be welcome wherever I go.

Too-ra-loo-ra-lay, too-ra-loo-ra-loo,

And if I get drunk well that's nothing to you

Oh my jug of punch and my jug of punch

This song I'm singing is the Jug of Punch.