| From France we get the Brandy
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| From Martinique the rum
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| Sweet red Cabernet
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| From Italy does come
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| But the fairest of ‘em all me boys
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| The one to beat the day
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| Is made from apples
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| Up the mighty Saguenay
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| So, follow me lads
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| ‘cause this 'ain't no grog or ale
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| One pint down you’ll be swingin' in the gale
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| Five pints bully, you’ll be shakin' in your shoes
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| We’re half-seas over on the Joli Rouge
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| She’s called the Dreadnought Cider
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| She’s proper and she’s fine
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| And when the day is over
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| Sure, I wish that she were mine
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| Or in the dark of winter, or on a summer’s eve
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| One hand giveth and the other doth receive
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| So, follow me lads
|
| ‘cause this 'ain't no grog or ale
|
| One pint down you’ll be swingin' in the gale
|
| Five pints bully, you’ll be shakin' in your shoes
|
| We’re half-seas over on the Joli Rouge
|
| So turn your sails over
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| And bring her hard to port
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| Find that little star and fly
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| Straight into the north
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| The wild sun upon your back
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| The wind a-blowing free
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| You’re rolling down the river boys
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| To old Chicoutimi
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| So, follow me lads
|
| ‘cause this 'ain't no grog or ale
|
| One pint down you’ll be swingin' in the gale
|
| Five pints bully, you’ll be shakin' in your shoes
|
| We’re half-seas over on the Joli Rouge
|
| So you can have a Magners
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| And pour it over ice
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| Or you can have a Strongbow
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| If it’s sadness that you like
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| Or join us up the river
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| And we’ll set your heart aglow
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| And how you’ll feel
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| When the real cider starts to flow
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| So, follow me lads
|
| ‘cause this 'ain't no grog or ale
|
| One pint down you’ll be swingin' in the gale
|
| Five pints bully, you’ll be shakin' in your shoes
|
| We’re half-seas over on the Joli Rouge
|
| So, follow me lads
|
| ‘cause this 'ain't no grog or ale
|
| One pint down you’ll be swingin' in the gale
|
| Five pints bully, you’ll be shakin' in your shoes
|
| We’re half-seas over on the Joli Rouge |