Lyrics
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
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...
