The Irish Rover

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 
To the Grand City Hall in New York
'twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged for and aft 
And oh, how the wild winds drove her
She stood several blasts 
she had twenty-seven 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 bone
We had five million hogs
Six million dogs 
Seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million pails of old nanny goats' tails 
In the hold of the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny 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 Tracy from Dover
And your man, Mike McCann from the banks of the Bann 
Was the skipper on the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out 
And the ship lost its way in the fog
And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two
Just meself and the Captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock, 
What a terrible shock, 
The bulkhead it turned right over
Turned nine times around 
And the poor old dog was drowned
Now I’m the last of the Irish Rover