QUOTE
              The Jug of Punch
Bein' on the twenty-third of June,
    As I sat weaving all at my loom,
Bein' on the twenty-third of June,
    As I sat weaving all at my loom,
I heard a thrush, singing on yon bush,
    And the song she sang was The Jug of Punch.
What more pleasure can a boy desire,
    Than sitting down beside the fire?
What more pleasure can a boy desire,
    Than sitting down beside the fire?
And in his hand a jug of punch,
    And on his knee a tidy wench.
When I am dead and left in my mould,
    At my head and feet place a flowing bowl,
When I am dead and left in my mould,
    At my head and feet place a flowing bowl,
And every young man that passes by,
    He can have a drink and remember I.
(IMG:
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Ostensibly Recursive Texts
