Jug o' Punch (the classic Irish song, sung by Eddie Biggins)

Jug o’ Punch (traditional) As I was sitting here with jug and spoon On one fine morn in the month of June A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was the jug o' punch Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay A small bird sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was the jug o' punch What more diversion can a man desire Than to sit himself by a snug turf fire Upon his knee a pretty wench And on the table a jug o' punch Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay Upon his knee a pretty wench And on the table a jug o' punch The learned doctors with all their art Cannot cure the impression that’s upon my heart But I’ll be all right, I have a hunch When I’m snug outside of a jug o' punch Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay Too-ra-loo-ra-loo, too-ra-loo-ra-lay But I’ll be all right, I have a hunch When I’m snug outside of a jug o' punch And if I get drunk, well the money's me own And them don't like me they c