"The Irish Rover" is a traditional Irish song about a magnificent, though improbable, sailing ship that reaches an unfortunate end. It has been recorded by numerous artists, some of whom have made changes to the lyrics. The origins of the song are uncertain.
Lyrics:
On the Fourth of July, eighteen hundred and six We set sail from the sweet Cobh 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 sides of old blind horses hides 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 bales of old nanny-goats' tails In the hold of the Irish Rover
There was awl Mickey Coote Who played hard on his flute When the ladies lined up for a set He would tootle with skill For each sparkling quadrille Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet With his smart witty talk He was cock of the walk And he rolled the dames under and over They all knew at a glance When he took up his stance That he sailed in The Irish Rover
There was Barney McGee From the banks of the Lee There was Hogan from County Tyrone There was Johnny McGirk 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 Treacy from Dover And your man, Mick MacCann From the banks of the Bann Was the skipper 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 little dog Then the ship struck a rock Oh Lord what a shock The bulkhead was turned right over Turned nine times around And the poor little dog was drowned I'm the last of The Irish Rover
