Irish Rover

Irish Rover


In the year of our lord eighteen hundred and six
we set sail from the cold quay of Cork (cold Cork!)
we were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
for the grand city hall in New York
we’d an elegant craft she was rigged fore-and-aft
and oh how the trade winds drove her
she had twenty three masts and she ‘stood several blasts
And they called her the Irish Rover

We had one million bags of our best sligo rags
we had two million barrels of stone
we had three million sides of old blind horse’s hides
we had four million barrels of bone
we had five million hogs and six million dogs
and seven million barrels of porter
we had eight million bales of old nanny goats tails
in the hold of the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
there was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Dudley McGurk who was scared stiff of work
and our chaplin from Meath called Malone
there was Slugger O’ Tool who was drunk as a rule
and Fightin’ Bill Tracy 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 our ship lost her way in a fog (great fog!)
and that whale of a crew was reduced down to two
just meself and the captain’s old dog (big dog!)
well the ship struck a rock, oh lord what a shock
and nearley tumbled over
turned nine times around,
and the poor old dog was drowned…
I’m the last of the Irish Rover!

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