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The Irish Rover
Tophouse
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In the year of our lord eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the cold cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand City Hall in New York
A very fine craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft
And how the wild winds drove her
She had twenty-seven masts, and had stood several blasts
And they called her the Irish Rover
We had one million vase of the best Sligo rays
We had two million barrels of stone
We had three million size of a blind horse's hides
We had four million barrels of bone
And five million hogs, and six million dogs
And seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bales of old nanny goat's tails
In the hold of the Irish Rover
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There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from Westmeath called Malone
A 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
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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 down to two
Just meself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock; oh lord, what a shock
The boat cap was turned right over
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover
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