QUARE BUNGLE RYE - Trad.
sung by Carl Peterson

Now, Jack was a sailor who roamed on the town,
And she was a damsel who skipped up and down.
Said the damsel to Jack, as she passed him by,
“Would you care for to purchase some quare bungle rye, roddy rye?”
Fol the diddle rye, roddy rye, roddy rye.

Thought Jack to himself, now what can this be,
But the finest of whisky from far Germany,
Smuggled up in a basket and sold on the sly,
And the name that it goes by is Quare Bungle Rye...

Jack gave her a pound and he thought nothing strange;
Said she, “Hold the basket ‘til I get you your change.”
Jack looked in the basket and a baby did spy.
“Oh, Begorrah,” said Jack, “This is quare bungle rye...

Jack /looked for /her to re/turn, but in /vain,
She had /skipped and /he never /saw her a/gain.
And it wasn’t too long, ‘til the babe ‘gan to cry.
“To be sure,” said Jack, “This is quare bungle rye...

Now to get the child christened was Jack’s first intent,
For to get the child christened to the parson he went.
Said the parson to Jack, “What /name will he go /by?”
“Bedad, now,” said Jack, “Call him Quare Bungle Rye...

Said the parson to Jack, “Now that’s a queer name,”
Said Jack to the parson, “It’s a queer way he came,
Smuggled up in a basket and sold on the sly,
And the name that he’ll go by is Quare Bungle Rye...

Now all you young sailors who roam on the town
Beware of those damsels who skip up and down.
Take a look in their baskets as they pass you by,
Or else they might sell you some quare bungle rye...

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