The Irish Rover

On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six

We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork

We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks

For the grand city hall in New York

'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft

And oh, how the wild winds drove her.

She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts

And we called her the Irish Rover.

We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stones

We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,

We had four million barrels of bones.

We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs,

Seven million barrels of porter.

We had eight million bails of old nanny goats' tails,

In the hold of the Irish Rover.

There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute

When the ladies lined up for his set

He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille

Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet

With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk

As he rolled the dames under and over

They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance

And he sailed in the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,

There was Hogan from County Tyrone

There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work

And a man from Westmeath called Malone

There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule

And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover

And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann

Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out

And the ship lost it's way in a fog.

And that whale of the crew was reduced down to two,

Just meself and the captain's old dog.

Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord what a shock

The bulkhead was turned right over

Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned

I'm the last of the Irish Rover