THE IRISH ROVER
In the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the coal quay of Cork
And we were sailin' away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
We'd and elegant craft, it was rigged fore and aft
And oh, how the trade winds drove her
She had twenty three masts, and she stood several blasts
And they called her the Irish Rover.
Chorus: Fare thee well, my own true love, I'll be going far far away
Fare thee well, my own true love, I'll be going far far away.
There was Barney McGee from the Banks of the Leigh
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Johnny McGirk who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from West Meade named Malone
There was 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.
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of bone
We had three million bales of old nanny goat tails
We had four million barrels of stone
We had five million hogs and six million dogs
And seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides
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 down to two
'Twas meself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock! Oh, Lord, what a shock!
And nearly tumbled over
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover.
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