Click here to view the embedded video.

One pleasant evening in the month of June
As I was sitting with my glass and spoon
A small bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the song he sang was “The Jug Of 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 Of Punch.”

What more diversion can a man desire?
Than to sit him down by a snug turf  fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench
And on the table a jug of 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 of punch.

Let the doctors come with all their art
They’ll make no impression upon my heart
Even a cripple forgets his hench
When he’s snug outside of a jug of punch.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
 Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
Even a cripple forgets his hench
When he’s snug outside of a jug of punch.

And if I get drunk, well, me money’s me own
And them don’t like me they can leave me alone
I’ll tune me fiddle and I’ll rosin me bow
And I’ll be welcome wherever I go.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
I’ll tune me fiddle and I’ll rosin me bow
And I’ll be welcome wherever I go.

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.

Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay,
Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my head and feet.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Click here to view the embedded video.

Whiskey, you’re the devil, you’re leadin’ me astray
Over hills and mountains and to Americae
You’re sweeter, stronger, decenter, you’re spunkier than tae
O whiskey, you’re my darlin’ drunk or sober

Oh, now, brave boys, we’re on the march and off to Portugal and Spain
The drums are beating, banners flying, the devil ahome will come tonight
Love, fare thee well, with me tithery eye the doodelum the da
Me tithery eye the doodelum the da, Me rikes fall tour a laddie oh
There’s whiskey in the jar. Hey!

Whiskey, you’re the devil, you’re leadin’ me astray
Over hills and mountains and to Americae
You’re sweeter, stronger, decenter, you’re spunkier than tae
O whiskey, you’re my darlin’ drunk or sober

Said the mother: “Do not wrong me, don’t take my daughter from me
For if you do I will torment you, and after death a ghost will haunt you
Love, fare thee well, with me tithery eye the doodelum the da
Me tithery eye the doodelum the da, Me rikes fall tour a laddie oh
There’s whiskey in the jar. Hey!

Whiskey, you’re the devil, you’re leadin’ me astray
Over hills and mountains and to Americae
You’re sweeter, stronger, decenter, you’re spunkier than tae
O whiskey, you’re my darlin’ drunk or sober

The French are fighting boldly, men dying hot and coldly
Gives ev’ry man his flask of powder, his farlock on his shoulder
Love, fare thee well, with me tithery eye the doodelum the da
Me tithery eye the doodelum the da, Me rikes fall tour a laddie oh
There’s whiskey in the jar. Hey!

Whiskey, you’re the devil, you’re leadin’ me astray
Over hills and mountains and to Americae
You’re sweeter, stronger, decenter, you’re spunkier than tae
O whiskey, you’re my darlin’ drunk or sober

Click here to view the embedded video.

 Oh, the summer time is coming,
   And the trees are sweetly blooming,
   And the wild mountain thyme
   grows around the blooming heather.

Chorus:
   Will you go, lassie, go?
   And we’ll all go together
   To pull wild mountain thyme
   All around the blooming heather,
   Will you go lassie, go?

I will build my love a bower
   By yon clear and crystal fountain,
   And on it I will pile
   All the flowers of the mountain.

If my true love, she won’t have me,
   I will surely find another
   To pull wild mountain thyme
   All around the blooming heather.

 Oh, the summer time is coming
   And the trees are sweetly blooming
   And the wild mountain thyme
   Grows around the blooming heather

Click here to view the embedded video.

The gypsy rover came over the hill
Down through the valley so shady,
He whistled and he sang ’til the greenwoods rang,
And he won the heart of a lady.

Chorus:
Ah-de-do, ah-de-do-da-day,
Ah-de-do, ah-de-da-ay
He whistled and he sang ’til the greenwoods rang,
And he won the heart of a lady.
She left her father’s castle gates
She left her own fine lover
She left her servants and her state
To follow the gypsy rover.

Her father saddled up his fastest steed
And roamed the valleys all over
Sought his daughter at great speed
And the whistling gypsy rover.

He came at last to a mansion fine,
Down by the river Claydee
And there was music and there was wine,
For the gypsy and his lady.

“He is no gypsy, my father” she said
“But lord of these lands all over,
And I shall stay ’til my dying day
With my whistling gypsy rover

The Moonshiner

I’ve been a moonshiner for many a year,
I spent all me money on whiskey and beer.
I’ll go to some hollow and I set up me still
and i’ll make you a gallon fer a ten shillin bill.

I’m a rambler I’m a gambler
I’m a long ways from home.
And if you don’t like me well leave me alone.
I’ll eat when I’m hungry and I’ll drink when I’m dry,
And if moonshine don’t kill me I’ll live till I die.

I’ll go to some hollow in this count-er-ey,
Ten gallons of wash i can go on a spree.
No women to follow the world is all mine,
And I love none so well as I love the moonshine.

I’m a rambler I’m a gambler
I’m a long ways from home.
And if you don’t like me well leave me alone.
I’ll eat when I’m hungry and I’ll drink when I’m dry,
And if moonshine don’t kill me I’ll live till I die.

O Moonshine dear Moonshine oh how I love thee,
Ya kill me ol’ father but ar’ ya try me.
Oh bless all moonshiners and bless all moonshine,
Oh it’s breath smells as sweet as the dew on the vine

I’m a rambler I’m a gambler
I’m a long ways from home.
And if you don’t like me well leave me alone.
I’ll eat when I’m hungry and I’ll drink when I’m dry,
And if moonshine don’t kill me I’ll live till I die.

In Person At Carnegie Hall

On the year of Our Lord eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the port quay of Cork.
We were sailing away with a Cargo of bricks
For the grand City Hall of New York.
We’d a near-leaking craft, it was rigged fore and aft.
And how the trade winds drove her.
She had twenty-three masts and she stood several blasts,
And they called her the Irish Rover.
There was Bobby McGee from the banks of the Leith.
There was Hogan from county Tyrone.
There was John D. McGirk, who was scared stiff of work,
And a chap from Westmeath named Malone.
There was Slugger O’Toole, who was drunk as a rule,
And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover,
And a man, Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover.
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags,
We had two million barrels of pone.
We had three million bales of old nanny goats’ tails,
We had four million barrels of bone.
We had five million hogs,
And six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million sides of poor blind horses’ hides
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
We had sailed seven years when the mizzens broke out
And the ship lost her way in the fog.
And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two.
Twas meself and the captain’s old dog.
Well, the ship struck a rock, and Lord what a shock!
I nearly tumbled over.
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
I’m the last of the Irish Rover