The Irish Rover
In the year of our Lord,
Eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the fair Cobh of Cork
We were bound far away
With a cargo of bricks
For the fine city hall of New York.
In a very fine craft,
She was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her
She had twenty-three masts
And withstood several blasts
and we called her the Irish Rover.
There was Barney McGee
From the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
And a chap called McGurk
Who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from West Meade called Mellone.
There was Slugger O'Toole
Who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Casey from Dover
There was Dooley from Claire
Who was strong as a bear
And was skipper of the Irish Rover
We had one million bales
Of old billy goats' tails
We had two million buckets of stones.
We had three million sides
Of old blind horses hides,
We had four million packets of bones.
We had five million hogs,
We had six million dogs
And seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bags
of the best Sligo rages
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
We had sailed seven years
When the measles broke out
And the ship lost her way in a fog.
And the whole of the crew
was reduced to just two
'Twas myself and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock
With a terrible shock
And then she heeled right over,
turned nine times around,
and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
Graphic background from Gros&Co web pages
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