Standard (EADGBE)

 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 an elegant craft, rigged fore and aft

 And oh, how the wild wind drove her

 She could stand a great blast, 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, 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 tootin' 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 Ty--rone

 There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work

 And a chap from Westmeath called Malone

 There was Slugger O'Toole, drunk as a rule

Fighting Bill Treacy from Dover

 And your man, Mick MacCann from the banks of the Bann

 Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

 We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out

 And our 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

 Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord! what a shock

 The boat it flipped right over

 Turned nine times around, and the poor old dog was drowned

 I’m the last of the The Irish Rover

BritBoy Mac JC