The Irish Rover

In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and six

We set sail from the fair Cobh of Cork

We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks

For the grand city hall in New York

't Was a wonderfull craft she was rigged for and aft

And oh how the wild winds drove her

She had twenty seven masts and withstood several blasts

And we called her the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lea

There was Hogan from County Tyrone

There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work

And a man from West Meade called Mallone

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 Ban

Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

There was old Mickey Coot who played hard on his flute

And the ladies went down in a dance

There was Darren Kilgour and a charming French whore

Sitting down all the night on his lap

There was Mason McGreig who was drunk as a brick

Oh God he was seldom sober

He went down in the bar and he puked in a jar

Oh God what a mess he left over

We had one million bales of old billy goats' tails

We had two million barrels of stones

We had three million sides of old blind horses hides

We had four million packets of bones

We had five million hogs and six million dogs

And seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million bags of the best Sligo rags

In the hold of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out

And the ship lost its way in the fog

And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two

't Was myself and the captain's old dog

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

The boat it had turned right over

Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned

I'm the last of the Irish Rover