The Irish Rover

In the year of our lord, 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 how the wild winds drove her

She had twenty-three masts, she 'stood several blasts

And they called her the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee

There was Hogan from County Tyrone

There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work

And a man from Westmeath named Malone

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 stones

We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails

We had four million barrels of bones

We had five million hogs and six million dogs

And seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million sides of old blind horses' hides

On the board of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out

And our ship lost her way in the fog

And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two

'Twas meself and the captain's old dog

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

The bulkhead was turned right over

We turned nine times around - then the poor old dog got drowned

Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover