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 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? Let the doctors come with all their art They'll make no impression upon my heart Even the cripple forgets his hunch When he's snug outside of a jug of punch And if I get drunk, well the money's me own And them that 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