Jug Of Punch chords and lyrics - DON MCLEAN, THE CLANCY BROTHERS

Lời & hợp âm

[Verse 1]
[D]There's a lovely drinking song
called A Jug of Punch.
Punch is made here in America,
apparently, with rum or something
like that.
But in Ireland,
it's naturally enough
made with Irish whiskey.
You have a glass and a spoon,
some hot water[A],
[D]a squeeze of lemon,
some sugar, [A]some cloves.
[D]No, you don't need the cloves.
You don't really need the hot water,
either. but it's a lovely drink anyway
and this is a song
that an old man might sing in the evening
an old man whose whole life
had been sweetened
by the drinking of punch
and he sort of growls it out one
evening
as the world is [A]slipping out of focus.
It starts out very [D]quietly and very poetically
and rapidly deteriorates
like a good night of drinking.
A jug of punch
when they're in tune.
Anyway, all [A]good [D]people
should join
in the chorus of this song,
anybody who's ever tasted punch.
And now we're going to
do a pleasant evening
in the month of June,
as I was [A]sitting [D]with my glass and spoon,
a small bird sat on an ivy bunch,
and the [C#]song he [D]sang
was the jug of punch.
Too -ra -loo -ra -loo,
too -ra -loo -ra -lay,
Too -ra [A]-loo -ra -loo, [D]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 [A]sit him down by a [D]snot or fire
Upon his knee a pretty wench,
Aye, and on the table a [A]jug of [D]hunch.
To -ra -loo -ra -loo, to -ra -loo [G]-ra -lay,
[D]To -ra -loo -ra [A]-loo, [D]to -ra -loo -ra -lay.
Upon his knee a pretty [G]wench,
[D]Aye, and on the table a jug of hunch.
Let the doctors come with all their aft,
They'll make [A]no impression
upon [D]my heart.
And even the cripple for[G]gets his punch,
When he's [D]snuck outside
of a jug [A]of [D]punch.
And too -da -loo -da -loo,
too -da -loo -da [G]-lay,
Too [D]-da -loo [A]-da -loo,
[D]too -da -loo -da -lay.
Even the cripple forgets [G]his hunch
When [D]he's not outside of a jug of punch.
And if I get drunk, oh, well,
the money's beyond,
And [A]them don't like me,
they can [D]leave me alone.
I've shown my fiddle hand,
I'll [F#]rosin my [G]bow,
An[F#]d I'll [D]be [G]wel
[D]come wherever I [F#m]go.
[D]And toodle -oodle -oo,
toodle -oodle [G]-ay,
Toodle [D]-oodle [A]-oo, too[D]dle -oodle -ay.
I've shown my fiddle hand,
I'll [G]rosin my bow,
[D]And I'll be welcome wherever I go.
And when I'm dead, I undid my grave
No [A]costly tombstone will [D]I have
Just lay me down in my native peat
With a jug of punch at my [A]head
[D]Toodle -oodle -oo, toodle [A]-oodle -ee
[D]Toodle [A]-oodle -oo, [D]toodle -oodle -ee
Just lay me down in my native [A]feet
With a [D]jug of [A]horns [D]at
[D]my head and feet
Give it up again lads!