Of all the tall tales of tall ships, none had a cargo to compare with
the fabulous Irish Rover.
On the Fourth of July 1806 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 for and aft
and oh, how the wild wind drove her
She stood several blasts, she had twenty-seven masts and they called her the
Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo
rags, we had two million barrels of stone
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides, we had four million
barrels of bones
We had five million hogs, and six million dogs, seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bails 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 a set
He was tootlin' with skill for each sparkling
quadrille, though the dancers were fluther'd and bet
With his smart witty talk, he was cock of the walk and he rolled the dames
under and over
They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance that he sailed in 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 called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule and Fighting Bill Treacy from Dover
And your man, Mike MacCann from the banks of the Bann
was the skipper on the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out and the ship lost it's way in the fog
And that whale of a 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 and the last of the
Irish Rover
Last update: 18
March 2010