The Irish Rover - Dropkick Murphys

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

T'was a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore 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 bone

We had five million hogs, six million dogs

Seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million bales, of old nanny gold tails

In the hold of the Irish Rover

There was old Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute

When the ladies lined up for a set

He was tooting with skill, for each sparking quadrille

Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet

With his smart, witty talk, he was cock of the walk

He rolled the dames under and over

They all knew at a glance, when he took up his stance

That he sailed on 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 your man from the West Meath called Malone

The 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 the fog

And that whale of a crew, was reduced down to two

Just myself and the captain's old dog

And 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 that's to the Irish Rover