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 clay,
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`d stood several blasts, She had 27 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, we had six million dogs,
We had seven million barrels of Porter
We had nine million bales of old nanny goats tails,
On board of the Irish Rover.

There was auld Mickey Coote playing hard upon his flute,
While the ladies lined up for the set.
He was tootling wit skill for each sparkling quadrille
‘Till the dancers were fluther`t and bet.
With his smart witty talk he was cock of the walk,
As he rolled the dames under and over,
When he took up his stance they all knew at a glance,
That he sailed in the Irish Rover.

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lea,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone.
There was Mickey McGurk who was scared stiff off work,
And a chap from West Meath named Malone.
There was Slugger O’Toole, who was drunk as a rule,
And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover,
There was Dolan from Clare, he was as strong as the mayor
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover.

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out,
And the ship lost it’s way in the fog.
Oh 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 boat she was turned right over,
Turned nine times around,
Then the old dog was drowned,
I’m the last of the Irish Rover


(c) Joseph Crofts