Select language to translate this lyric
As I was sitting with a jug and spoon
One Sunny Morning in the month of June
A birdie sang in an ivy bunch
And the song it sang was the jug of punch
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
A birdie sang in an ivy bunch
And the song it sang was the jug of punch
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
A birdie sang in an ivy bunch
And the song it sang was the jug of punch
What more diversion can a man desire
Then to court a girl by a cheerful fire
A carey pippin to crack and crunch
and on the table a jug of punch.
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
A carey pippin to crack and crunch
and on the table a jug of punch.
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
A carey pippin to crack and crunch
and on the table a jug of punch.
The learned doctors with all their art
Cannot cure a depression on the heart
But even a cripple forget his hunch
When he snugged outside with a jug of punch
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
But even a cripple forget his hunch
When he snugged outside with a jug of punch
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
But even a cripple forget his hunch
When he snugged outside with a jug of punch
Ye mortal lords, drink your nectar wine
and ye quality folk, sip your claret fine.
I'd give them all the grapes in the bunch
for a jolly pull at my jug of punch.
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
I'd give them all the grapes in the bunch
for a jolly pull at my jug of punch.
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
I'd give them all the grapes in the bunch
for a jolly pull at my jug of punch.
So if I drink well my money is my own
And them that don't like me can leave alone
I tune my fiddle and I'll rosen my bow
And make myself welcome wherever I go
tooooo-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
I tune my fiddle and russle my bow
And make myself welcome wherever I go
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
I tune my fiddle and russle my bow
And make myself welcome wherever I go
And when I'm dead and I'm in my grave,
no costly tombstone do I ever crave.
Just lay me down in my native peat
with a jug of punch at my head and feet.
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
Just lay me down in my native peat
with a jug of punch at my head and feet.
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
too-ra-loo-la-loo
Just lay me down in my native peat
with a jug of punch at my head and feet.