An Apres Morris Song Archive - The Morris Ring

Jones' Ale (traditional)
There were three jovial fellows came over the hill together.
Came over the hill together to make up a jovial crew.
Ch. And they ordered their pints of beer and bottles of sherry
To help them over the hills so merry, to help them over the hills so merry,
When Jones's Ale was new, me boys. When Jones's Ale was new.
And the first of them was a tinker and he wasn't no small ale drinker.
He was a jolly beer drinker among this jovial crew. And he called for a pint of the very best ale
To drink a whole gallon he never would fail. To drink a whole gallon he never would fail,
When Jones' Ale was new, me boys. When Jones' Ale was new.
And the next to come in was a soldier with his flintlock upon his shoulder,
For none could be more bolder. And his long broadsword he drew.
He swore every man should spend a pound. And they should treat all hands around.
Then he jolly well drank their healths all 'round
When Jones' Ale was new, me boys. When Jones' Ale was new.
And the next to come in was a dyer who sat himself down by the fire,
'Cause that was his desire to make up a jovial crew.
And the landlady told him straight to his face the chimney corner was his own place,
And there he could sit and dye his own face,
When Jones' Ale was new, me boys. When Jones' Ale was new.
And the next to come in was a mason. His hammer needed refacin'.
His hammer needed refacin' to make up a jovial crew.
So he threw his old hammer against the wall, And he hoped that the church and the chapel would fall,
For that'd make work for masons all
When Jones' Ale was new, me boys. When Jones' Ale was new.
Jug of Punch (trad.)
And the last to come in was a hatter and there was no man ever fatter.
No man could ever be fatter and make up a jovial crew.
When the landlady's daughter, she came in, he kissed her twixt the nose and chin,
And the pints of beer they came rolling in
When Jones' Ale was new, me boys. When Jones' Ale was new.
As I was sitting with jug and spoon,
one fine morn in the month of June
A birdie sat on an ivy bunch.
And the song he sang was a jug of punch
Too ra loo ra loo, too ra loo ra lay….
What more diversions can a man desire
Than to court a girl by a neat turf fire
With a Kerry Pippin to crack and crunch.
And on the table a jug of punch
The learned doctors with all their art
cannot cure the sadness of the heart
Even the cripple forgets his hunch
when he’s safely outside a jug of punch
And when I’m dead and in my grave
no costly tombstone will I crave
Just lay me down in my native peat,
with a jug of punch at my head and feet
Lambeth Walk (Noel Gay & Douglas Furber)
Any time you’re Lambeth Way.
Any evening any day
You’ll find us all doing the Lambeth Walk
Every little Lambeth gal
With her little Lambeth pal
You’ll find them all doing the Lambeth Walk
Everything’s free and easy,
do as you darn well pleasy
Why don’t you make your way there.
Go there, stay there
Once you get down Lambeth Way
Every evening, every day
You’ll find yourself
Doing the Lambeth Walk
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