Irish Rover

In the year of our lord 1806, we set sail from the fair cove of Cork.
We were bound far away with a cargo of bricks to the fine City Hall of New York.
And our very fine craft, she was rigged fore and aft,
And oh how the wild wind 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 Dundee, there was Hogan from County Tyrone
And a chap called McGurk 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, Mike McCann from the banks of the Bann was the skipper of the Irish Rover.

We had one million bales of old billygoat tails we had two million buckets of stone.
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides, we had four million packets of bones
We had five million hogs, six million dogs, seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bags of the best Sligo rags in the hold of the Irish Rover.

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out, and the ship lost her way in the fog.
And the whole of the crew was reduced unto two, ‘twas meself and the Captain’s old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock – terrible shock. And then she heeled right over
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned…
I’m the last of the Irish Rovers.