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On the fourth of July 1806 |
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We set sail from the sweet cove of Cork |
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We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks |
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For the grand city hall in New York |
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T'was a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore and aft |
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And oh how the wild wind drove her |
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She stood several blasts, she had twenty-seven masts |
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And they called her the Irish Rover |
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We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags |
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We had two million barrels of stone |
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We had three million sides of old blind horses' hides |
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We had four million barrels of bone |
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We had five million hogs, six million dogs |
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Seven million barrels of porter |
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We had eight million bails of old nanny gold tails |
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In the hold of the Irish Rover |
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There was old Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute |
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When the ladies lined up for a set |
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He was tootin' with skill For each sparking quadrille |
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Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet |
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With his smart witty talk he was cock of the walk |
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He rolled the dames under and over |
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They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance |
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That he sailed on the Irish Rover |
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There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee |
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There was Hogan from County Tyrone |
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There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work |
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And your man from the West Meath called Malone |
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The was slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule |
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And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover |
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And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann |
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Was the skipper of the Irish Rover |
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We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out |
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And the ship lost its way in the fog |
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And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two |
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Just myself and the captain's old dog |
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Then the ship struck a rock oh Lord what a shock |
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The bulkhead was turned right over |
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Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned |
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And the last of the Irish Rover |