In the year of our lord, eighteen hundred and six, 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 'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft And how the wild winds drove her She had twenty-three masts, 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 man from Westmeath 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 stones We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails We had four million barrels of bones 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 On the board of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out And our 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 The bulkhead was turned right over We turned nine times around - then the poor old dog got drowned Now I'm the last of the Irish RoverTeksty umieszczone na naszej stronie są własnością wytwórni, wykonawców, osób mających do nich prawa.
