On the forth of July, eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from the sweet Cobh of Cork.
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York.

She was a very fine craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She had twenty-three masts and withstood several blasts
And we called her the Irish Rover.


~


There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
There was Hogan from County Tyrone.
And a chap called McGurk who was scared stiff of work
And a chap from West Meadle called Melone.

There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as rule
And fighting Bill Casey from Dover.
There was Dooley from Claire who was strong as a bear
And was skipper of the Irish Rover.


~


We had one million bales of old billy goat's tails
We had two million buckets of stones.
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
We had four million packets of bones.

We had five million hogs, we had six million dogs
And seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bag of the best Sligo rags
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 unto two
'T was meself and the captain's old dog.

Then the ship struck a rock with a terrible shock
And then she heeled right over.
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover.