The Old Whiskey Jug.We’re anchor’d by the roadside, Jim,Where oft we’ve sat before,When you and I were weary, Jim,When we were half seas-o’er;When the bright full moon in splendor, Jim,Shone down on you and I,And the little stars kept winkin’, Jim,As we drank the old jug dry.Ah! those were happy days, Jim,Those good old days of yore—When Rockwood kept the tavern, Jim,And Potter own’d the store;When whiskey ran as freely, Jim,As water in the brook,And good men for their stomach’s sakeTheir morning bitters took.But times have changed since then, Jim,And men have alter’d, too—And some have undertaken, Jim,To put rumsellers through:They say that whiskey’s poison, Jim,And many graves has dug:That scores ofsnakesanddevils, Jim,Are in our good old jug.Who cares for all such prattle, Jim,To them it may be sense—We’ll lay when we’re a mind to, Jim,Beneath the old rail fence;This stuff they callcold water, Jim,Won’t do for you and I;We’ll pull the cork at leisure, Jim,And drink the old jug dry.
The Old Whiskey Jug.We’re anchor’d by the roadside, Jim,Where oft we’ve sat before,When you and I were weary, Jim,When we were half seas-o’er;When the bright full moon in splendor, Jim,Shone down on you and I,And the little stars kept winkin’, Jim,As we drank the old jug dry.Ah! those were happy days, Jim,Those good old days of yore—When Rockwood kept the tavern, Jim,And Potter own’d the store;When whiskey ran as freely, Jim,As water in the brook,And good men for their stomach’s sakeTheir morning bitters took.But times have changed since then, Jim,And men have alter’d, too—And some have undertaken, Jim,To put rumsellers through:They say that whiskey’s poison, Jim,And many graves has dug:That scores ofsnakesanddevils, Jim,Are in our good old jug.Who cares for all such prattle, Jim,To them it may be sense—We’ll lay when we’re a mind to, Jim,Beneath the old rail fence;This stuff they callcold water, Jim,Won’t do for you and I;We’ll pull the cork at leisure, Jim,And drink the old jug dry.
The Old Whiskey Jug.We’re anchor’d by the roadside, Jim,Where oft we’ve sat before,When you and I were weary, Jim,When we were half seas-o’er;When the bright full moon in splendor, Jim,Shone down on you and I,And the little stars kept winkin’, Jim,As we drank the old jug dry.Ah! those were happy days, Jim,Those good old days of yore—When Rockwood kept the tavern, Jim,And Potter own’d the store;When whiskey ran as freely, Jim,As water in the brook,And good men for their stomach’s sakeTheir morning bitters took.But times have changed since then, Jim,And men have alter’d, too—And some have undertaken, Jim,To put rumsellers through:They say that whiskey’s poison, Jim,And many graves has dug:That scores ofsnakesanddevils, Jim,Are in our good old jug.Who cares for all such prattle, Jim,To them it may be sense—We’ll lay when we’re a mind to, Jim,Beneath the old rail fence;This stuff they callcold water, Jim,Won’t do for you and I;We’ll pull the cork at leisure, Jim,And drink the old jug dry.
We’re anchor’d by the roadside, Jim,Where oft we’ve sat before,When you and I were weary, Jim,When we were half seas-o’er;When the bright full moon in splendor, Jim,Shone down on you and I,And the little stars kept winkin’, Jim,As we drank the old jug dry.
We’re anchor’d by the roadside, Jim,
Where oft we’ve sat before,
When you and I were weary, Jim,
When we were half seas-o’er;
When the bright full moon in splendor, Jim,
Shone down on you and I,
And the little stars kept winkin’, Jim,
As we drank the old jug dry.
Ah! those were happy days, Jim,Those good old days of yore—When Rockwood kept the tavern, Jim,And Potter own’d the store;When whiskey ran as freely, Jim,As water in the brook,And good men for their stomach’s sakeTheir morning bitters took.
Ah! those were happy days, Jim,
Those good old days of yore—
When Rockwood kept the tavern, Jim,
And Potter own’d the store;
When whiskey ran as freely, Jim,
As water in the brook,
And good men for their stomach’s sake
Their morning bitters took.
But times have changed since then, Jim,And men have alter’d, too—And some have undertaken, Jim,To put rumsellers through:They say that whiskey’s poison, Jim,And many graves has dug:That scores ofsnakesanddevils, Jim,Are in our good old jug.
But times have changed since then, Jim,
And men have alter’d, too—
And some have undertaken, Jim,
To put rumsellers through:
They say that whiskey’s poison, Jim,
And many graves has dug:
That scores ofsnakesanddevils, Jim,
Are in our good old jug.
Who cares for all such prattle, Jim,To them it may be sense—We’ll lay when we’re a mind to, Jim,Beneath the old rail fence;This stuff they callcold water, Jim,Won’t do for you and I;We’ll pull the cork at leisure, Jim,And drink the old jug dry.
Who cares for all such prattle, Jim,
To them it may be sense—
We’ll lay when we’re a mind to, Jim,
Beneath the old rail fence;
This stuff they callcold water, Jim,
Won’t do for you and I;
We’ll pull the cork at leisure, Jim,
And drink the old jug dry.