The Old Keg Of Rum
My name is old Jack Palmer,
I'm a man of olden days,
And so I wish to sing a song
To you of olden praise.
To tell of merry friends of old
When we were gay and young;
How we sat and sang together
Round the Old Keg of Rum.
Oh! the Old Keg of Rum! the Old Keg of Rum!
How we sat and sang together
Round the Old Keg of Rum.
There was I and Jack the plough-boy,
Jem Moore and old Tom Hines,
And poor old Tom the fiddler,
Who now in glory shines;
And several more of our old chums,
Who shine in Kingdom Come,
We all associated round the
Old Keg of Rum.
Oh! the Old Keg of Rum! the Old Keg of Rum!
We all associated round the
Old Keg of Rum.
And when harvest time was over,
And we'd get our harvest fee,
We'd meet, and quickly rise the keg,
And then we'd have a spree.
We'd sit and sing together
Till we got that blind and dumb
That we couldn't find the bunghole
Of the Old Keg of Rum.
Oh! the Old Keg of Rum! the Old Keg of Rum!
That we couldn't find the bunghole
Of the Old Keg of Rum.
Its jovially together, boys
We'd laugh, we'd chat, we'd sing;
Sometimes we'd have a little row
Some argument would bring.
And oftimes in a scrimmage, boys,
I've corked it with my thumb,
To keep the life from leaking
From the Old Keg of Rum.
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poem by Andrew Barton Paterson
Added by Poetry Lover
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