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chained_bear commented on the word irish rover
Trad. arr. The Pogues (performed with The Dubliners)
On the fourth of July 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 oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had four million barrels of bones.
We had five million hogs, six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter.
We had eight million bales of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for his set
He was tootin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille
Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his sparse witty talk, he was cock of the walk
As he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance
And he sailed in the Irish Rover.
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone.
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scared stiff of work,
And a man from Westmeath called Malone.
There 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 its way in a fog. (Big fog!)
And that whale 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!
The bulkhead was turned right over...
Turned nine times around, and the poor old dog was drowned...
I'm the last of the Irish Rover.
October 29, 2007
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