As I was a-crossin' the Abercrombie Mountains, <br />I met Sir Frederick Pottinger, and his money he was countin'. <br />I first drew me blunderbuss and then I drew me sabre <br />Sayin', "Stand and deliver-oh! for I'm your bold decayver." <br /> <br />chorus: With my mush-a-ring-a-dah, <br /> <br />Ri-tooral-addy-ah, <br /> <br />There's whisky in the jar! <br /> <br />I robbed him of his money; it was a pretty penny, <br />I robbed him of it all and took it home to Molly; <br />I took it home to Molly and I thought she'd ne'er deceive me, <br />Oh! the divil's in the wimmin for they never can be aisy <br /> <br />. . . . . . . . . all but the last two lines lost to time. . . . . . . <br /> <br />She fired off my pistols and damaged them with water - <br />Oh! the divil's in the wimmin for rearin' such a daughter."<br /><br />Anonymous Oceania<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/there-s-whisky-in-the-jar/
