As I was sitting with jug and spoon One fine morning in the month of June A birdie sat on an ivy bunch And the song he sang was "A Jug Of Punch". Toora loora loo, toora loora loo, Toora loora loo, toora loora loo, A birdy sat on an ivy bunch, And the song he sang was a jug of punch. What more diveration can a man desire, Than to court a maid by an alehouse fire? With kerry pippin to crack and crunch and on the table a jug of punch. The learned doctors with all their art Cannot cure the impression that is on the heart. But even the cripple forgets his hunch When he's safe astride of a jug of punch. And when I'm dead and in my grave No costly tombstone will I crave Just lay me down in my native peat With a jug of punch at my head and feet.