Luyện nghe bài hát The Jug of Punch

Jug Of
'Twas early, early, in the of June
I was sitting my glass and spoon.
A bird sat on an ivy bunch
And the he sang was a jug of punch.

Toor-a-loora-la,
Toor-a-loora-la,
A small bird sat on an ivy
And the song he was a jug of punch.

If I were sick, and bad
And were not to go or stand,
I would not think it at all
To my shoes for a jug of punch.

Toor-a-loora-la,
Toor-a-loora-la,
I would not it at all amiss
To pledge my for a jug of punch.

What more diversion can a man
to sit him down by a snug turf fire,
Upon his knee a wench
And his table a jug of punch.

Toor-a-loora-la,
Toor-a-loora-la,
Upon his knee a wench
And his table a jug of punch.

And when I'm dead and in my
No costly tombstone I have,
I'll dig a grave both and deep
With a jug of at my head and feet.