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Allison Crowe
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The Irish Rover
In the year of our Lord eighteen-hundred and six
we set sail from the cold sea of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
for the grand city hall of New York
We'd an elegant craft, we was rigged fore and aft
and, oh, how the trade winds drove her
She had twenty-seven masts and she stood several blasts
and they called her 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 chap from West Meath called Malone
Oh, there was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk, as a rule
and fighting Bill Casey from Dover
And your man, Nick McCann from the banks of the Bann
was the skipper of The Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
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We had two million barrels of bones
We had three million bales of old nanny goat tails
We had four million barrels of stones
We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs
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 several years when the measles broke out
and the ship lost its way in the fog
And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two
just meself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock - Oh, Lord, what a shock
It turned the damned thing over
It turned nine times around - and the poor old dog was drowned
I'm the last of The Irish Rover
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