It bein' on the twenty-third of June, as I sat weaving all on my loom
It bein' on the twenty-third of June, as I sat weaving all on my loom
I heard a thrush singing on yon bush
And the song he sang was the jug of punch

Chorus:
Ladly-fol-da-dee, ladly-fol-da-diddley-I-da-diddle-dum
Skiddery-I-da-diddle-dum, skiddery-I-da-diddle-iddle-um-dum-dee

What more diversion can a man desire, than to sit him down oh, beside the fire
What more diversion can a man desire, than to sit him down oh, beside the fire
And in his hand a jug of punch
Aye, and on his knee a tidy wench

Chorus

Oh, what more hardship can a boy endure, than to sit him down, oh, behind the door
Oh, what more hardship can a boy endure, than to sit him down, oh, behind the door
And in his hand no jug of punch
Aye, and on his knee no tidy wench

Chorus

When I am dead, all my drinking's over, I'll take one drink and I'll drink no more
When I am dead, all my drinking's over, I'll take one drink and I'll drink no more
In case I mightn't get it on that day
I will take it now and I'll drink away

Chorus

When I am dead, aye and in my mould, at my head and feet leave a flowing bowl
When I am dead, aye and in my mould, at my head and feet leave a flowing bowl
And every young man that passes by
He can take a drink and remember I

Chorus