The Jug of Punch

Being on the 23rd of June
 Oh, as I sat weaving all at my loom
 Being on the 23rd 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
 Dan din rin dan din dan, dan din rin dan din rin rin
 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 jug of punch
 Dan din rin dan din dan, dan din rin dan din rin rin
 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
 Dan din rin dan din dan, dan din rin dan rin rin
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 Being on the 23rd of June
 Oh, as I sat weaving all at my loom
 Being on the 23rd 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
 Dan din-rin dan din dan, dan din-rin dan din rin rin...