Oh, we'll sing the Jug o? Punch
We'll sing The Last Thing On My Mind
John o? Dreams and Scarborough Fair
And every hour we'll find
Someone, somewhere singing The Wild Mountain Thyme
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky_
verse 1
The door is always open
Entry's always free
But artists still get paid lots more than just the fee
And everyone who enters buys the new CD
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky
verse 2
Where the bar is one big fountain
Of gushing real ale
And every tankard's larger than a milking pail
And no one sings a forty-verse tribute to the whale
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky
Where we'll sing the Jug o? Punch
We'll sing The Last Thing On My Mind
John o? Dreams and Scarborough Fair
And every hour we'll find
Someone, somewhere singing The Wild Mountain Thyme
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky_
verse 3
Where every note is crystal
Every word is heard
Children sit in silence, we know, it's quite absurd
And every floor singer remembers every word
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky
verse 4
Where no instruments need tuning
All stay sweet and true
The songs you've heard a thousand times, still sound new to you
And singers given one song never try for two
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky
Where we'll sing the Jug o? Punch
We'll sing The Last Thing On My Mind
John o? Dreams and Scarborough Fair
And every hour we'll find
Someone, somewhere singing The Wild Mountain Thyme
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky_
VERSE 5
Each song's in perfect rhythm
It never gets too slow
There's no need for raffles to help pay for the show
And all the bodhrán players have been banished down below
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky
Where we'll sing the Jug o? Punch
We'll sing The Last Thing On My Mind
John o? Dreams and Scarborough Fair
And every hour we'll find
Someone, somewhere singing The Wild Mountain Thyme
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky_
Where we'll sing the Jug o? Punch
We'll sing The Last Thing On My Mind
John o? Dreams and Scarborough Fair
And every hour we'll find
Someone, somewhere singing The Wild Mountain Thyme
When we reach that perfect folk club in the sky_