| It was on the twenty-third of June
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| As I lay blasted in my room
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| A small bird sang on an ivy branch
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| And the song they sang was the «Jug of Punch»
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| Tu-ra-lu-ra-lie, tu-ra-lu-ra-lay,
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| Tu-ra-lu-ra-lie, tu-ra-lu-ra-lay,
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| A small bird sang on an ivy branch
|
| And the song they sang was the «Jug of Punch»
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| I don’t need my junkie friends
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| All knockin' on my door
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| I just want to do an old time waltz
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| With a buxom Irish whore
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| Call me Paddy Rolling Stone
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| I’ve a jug full of Mountain Dew
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| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
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| When I’m howling at the ceilidh moon
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| Call me Paddy Rolling Stone
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| I’ve a jug full of Mountain Dew
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| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
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| When I’m howling at the ceilidh moon
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| I’ll be drinking whiskey in a ditch
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| With Scruffy, and Brick and Noel
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| Now I’ve gone and lost my gear
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| And I’m looking for my hole
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| We are Texas riders
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| And we come from Nenagh town
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| One of these nights, durin' one of those fights
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| Gonna burn the whole place down
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| Call me Paddy Rolling Stone
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| I’ve a jug full of Mountain Dew
|
| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
|
| When I’m howling at the ceilidh moon
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| Call me Paddy Rolling Stone
|
| I’ve a jug full of Mountain Dew
|
| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
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| When I’m howling at the ceilidh moon
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| When I die don’t bother me
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| Just dig me a six foot hole
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| With a candle at my head and feet
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| And a jar of alcohol
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| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
|
| I’ve a jug full of Mountain Dew
|
| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
|
| When I’m howling at the ceilidh moon
|
| Call me Paddy Rolling Stone
|
| I’ve a jug full of Mountain Dew
|
| Just call me Paddy Rolling Stone
|
| When I’m howling at the ceilidh moon |