The Jug of Punch - Altan

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