The Irish Rover

(início)

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In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and six,
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We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
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We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
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For the grand City Hall in New York
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She was a wonderful craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft
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And how the wild winds drove her
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She 'stood several blasts, she had twenty-three masts
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And they called her the Irish Rover
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There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
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There was Hogan from County Tyrone
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There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work
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And a man from Westmeath called Malone
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There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
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And fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
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And your man Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann
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Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
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We had one million bags of the best Sligo ags
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We had two million barrels of stones
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We had three million sides of old blind horses' hides
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We had four million barrels of bones
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We had five million hogs and six million dogs
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And seven million barrels of porter
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We had eight million bales of old nanny goats' tails
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In the hold of the Irish Rover
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We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
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And our ship lost her way in the fog
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And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two
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'Twas meself and the captain's old dog
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Then the ship struck a rock; oh Lord what a shock
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The bulkhead  was turned right over
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We turned nine times around - then the poor old dog was drowned
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Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover