In the year of our Lord, 1806,
We set sail from the Polka and Cork.
For that grand city hall in New York.
we were rigged for an amp,
And how the train withdrew,
She's twenty -three best,
and she's stood several blasts,
and we called her the Irish Rover.
from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from Calgary,
There was young Mick McGurk,
who was scarce stiff for work,
And a chap from Westby, the name Malone.
There was Slugger O'Toole,
And fighting no trace even over,
And the only thing we'd get
from the banks of the band,
Was the skimmer of the Irish Rover.
We had one million bags of the best lager,
And we had two million barrels of stone,
We had three million bales
We had four million barrels of bone
Five million hogs, six million dogs
And seven million barrels of water
We had eight million sides
of old blind horse's hides
And the whole of the Irish Rover
Well we sailed seven years
till the measles broke out
And the ship lost her way in the fog
Then the whole of the crew
Us, myself, and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock,
She turned nine times around,
and that poor old dog was drowned
Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover you
