The Irish Rover

The Irish Rover - The Dubliners/The Pogues

On the fourth of July 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 oh how the wild winds drove her

She'd got several blasts she'd twenty seven masts

And we called her the Irish Rover

We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stones

We had three million sides of old blind horses hides

We had four million barrels of bones

We had five million hogs six million dogs

Seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million bails 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 his set

He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille

Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet

With his sparse witty talk he was cock of the walk

As he rolled the dames under and over

They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance

And he sailed in the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee

There was Hogan from County Tyrone

There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work

And a man from Westmeath called Malone

There was slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule

And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover

And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann

Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

For a sailor it's always a bother in life

It's so lonesome by night and by day

That he longs for the shore and a charming young whore

Who will melt all his troubles away

Oh the noise and the rout swillin' port in and stout

For him soon the torment's over

Of the love of a maid he is never afraid

An old salt from the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out

And the ship lost it's 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 Lord

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