On the fourth of July 1806
|
We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork
|
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
|
For the grand city hall in New York
|
T'was a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore and aft
|
And oh how the wild wind 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 bails of old nanny gold tails
|
In the hold of the Irish Rover
|
There was old Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
|
When the ladies lined up for a set
|
He was tootin' with skill For each sparking quadrille
|
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
|
With his smart witty talk he was cock of the walk
|
He rolled the dames under and over
|
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
|
That he sailed on 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 your man from the West Meath called Malone
|
The was slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
|
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
|
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
|
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
|
And 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 bulkhead was turned right over
|
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
|
And the last of the Irish Rover
|
|
-----------------
|
The Irish Rover
|
Dropkick Murphys |