The Irish Rover

In the year of our lord eighteen hundred and six We set sail from the cold cove of Cork We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks For the grand City Hall in New York Well we'd an elegant craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft And lord how the trade winds drove her We had twenty-three masts, and she stood several blasts And they called her the Irish Rover

Well there was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee There was Hogan from County Tyrone Well there was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work And a chap from Westmeath called Malone Well there was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule And fighting Bill Tracy from Dover And your man Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann Was the skipper on the Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags We had two million barrels of bone We had three million bales of old nanny goat's tails We had four million barrels of stone Well we had five million hogs, and six million dogs And seven million barrels of porter We had eight million sides of a blind horse's hides In the hold of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out And our ship lost its way in the fog But the few remaining lives were reduced down to five 'Twas meself and the captain's old dog Well then the ship struck a rock; oh lord, what a shock We nearly tumbled over Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned We're the last of the Irish Rover