Irish Rover lyrics

On the Fourth of July, 1806

We set sail from the sweet cohb 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 wind drove her

She stood several blasts

She had twenty seven masts

And they called her The Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stone

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

Seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides

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 Johnny McGurk

Who was scared stiff of work

And a man from Westmeath called 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 of the Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stone

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

Seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides

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 that whale of a crew

Was reduced down to two

Just myself and the Captain's old dog

Then the ship struck a rock

Oh what a shock

The bulkhead was turned right over

Turned nine times around

And the poor old dog was drowned

I'm the last of The Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stone

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

Seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides

In the hold of the Irish Rover