We Are Anchored By The Roadside, Jim

We Are Anchored By the Roadside, Jim

We are anchored by the roadside, Jim, as we've ofttimes before

When you and I were weary from sacking on the shore

The moon shone down in splendor, Jim, it shone on you and I

And the little stars were shining when we drank the old jug dry

But those was the good old days, those good old days of yore

When Murphy ran the tavern and Burnsy kept the store

When the whiskey flowed as free, brave boys, as the waters in the

brook

And the boys all for their stomach's sake their morning bitters

took

Now the times they have altered, Jim, and men have altered too

And some have undertaken for to put rumsellers through

They say that whiskey's poison, Jim, and scores of graves has dug

And ten thousand snakes and devils can be seen in our old jug

But never mind such prattle, Jim, Though some of it be true

We'll sleep where we've a mind to, together, me and you

For the drink they call cold water, won't do for you nor I

So we'll haul the cork at leisure, and we'll drink the old jug dry