Here's how it appears in Sam Henry's Songs of the People, page 48: THE CUP O' TAY Source: (m) Sam Dunlop, fiddler (Upper Main St, Bushmills). Och, prate about your wine, or poteen mighty fine There's no such draught as mine from Ireland to Bombay And whether black or green or divil-a-shade between There's nothin' I have seen wid a gintale cup o' tay. Whisht, hear the kettle sing like birds in early spring A sup for any king is the darlin' on the tray Ould cronies droppin' in, the fat ones and the thin Since all their hearts I win wid a gintale cup o' tay. Wid whiskey punch galore how many heads grow sore Shillelaghs too a score most beautifully play With all their haithin ways, good luck to them Chinaise Who send us o'er the says such a gintale cup o' tay.
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