The Cottars - The 23rd of June lyrics

It bein' on the twenty-third of June, as I sat weaving all on my loom It bein' on the twenty-third of June, as I sat weaving all on my loom I heard a thrush singing on yon bush And the song he sang was the jug of punch Ladly-fol-da-dee, ladly-fol-da-diddley-I-da-diddle-dum Skiddery-I-da-diddle-dum, skiddery-I-da-diddle-iddle-um-dum-dee What more diversion can a man desire, than to sit him down oh, beside the fire What more diversion can a man desire, than to sit him down oh, beside the fire And in his hand a jug of punch Aye, and on his knee a tidy wench Ladly-fol-da-dee, ladly-fol-da-diddley-I-da-diddle-dum Skiddery-I-da-diddlе-dum, skiddery-I-da-diddle-iddle-um-dum-dee Oh, what morе hardship can a boy endure, than to sit him down, oh, behind the door Oh, what more hardship can a boy endure, than to sit him down, oh, behind the door And in his hand no jug of punch Aye, and on his knee no tidy wench Ladly-fol-da-dee, ladly-fol-da-diddley-I-da-diddle-dum Skiddery-I-da-diddle-dum, skiddery-I-da-diddle-iddle-um-dum-dee When I am dead, all my drinking's over, I'll take one drink and I'll drink no more When I am dead, all my drinking's over, I'll take one drink and I'll drink no more In case I mightn't get it on that day I will take it now and I'll drink away Ladly-fol-da-dee, ladly-fol-da-diddley-I-da-diddle-dum Skiddery-I-da-diddle-dum, skiddery-I-da-diddle-iddle-um-dum-dee When I am dead, aye and in my mould, at my head and feet leave a flowing bowl When I am dead, aye and in my mould, at my head and feet leave a flowing bowl And every young man that passes by He can take a drink and remember I Ladly-fol-da-dee, ladly-fol-da-diddley-I-da-diddle-dum Skiddery-I-da-diddle-dum, skiddery-I-da-diddle-iddle-um-dum-dee