Irish Rover

Well on the fourth of July, eight hundred and six
We get sail from a sweet port of port
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall of New York
It was wonderful craft, she was great for the doubt
And now how the wild wind drove all over
She stood so fast, she got back to seven hand
In the hold of the Irish Rover

We get one million bags of our best lager and
We get two million barrels of port
We had three million sides of the light horses hide
We get four million barrels of pork
We had five million hogs and six million dogs
Seven million barrels of pork
We got eight million bells of ninety gold spells
In the hold of the Irish Rover

There was old Mickey Coots who played hard on his flute
When the lady in the top order sat
In the hold of the tube when they blew down the tube
And the
When he smiled with his hope, he was good for the port
He rolled down 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 a bank of the Lee
There was Hogan from down in Tyrone
There was Johnny McHugh who was scarce for work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slacker of June who was drunk as a moon
Fighting and chasing from Dover
And a lad named McHand from a bank of the band
Was the skipper for the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years and our meals all broke up
And our ship lost its way in the fog
And our whole old crew was in twos of the two
Just we sailed by the captain's old dog
When our ship struck a rock, all our water shook
My head was stirred and all was wet
Turned nine times around and our product was drowned
Desolate of the Irish Rover