| On the Fourth of July 1806
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| We set sail from the sweet Cobh 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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| Twas a wonderfull craft
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| 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
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| She had twenty seven masts
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| And the 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 stones
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| We had three million bales of oly nanny goats tails
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| We had four million barrels of bones
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| We had five million hogs
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| Six million dogs
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| Seven million barrels of porter
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| We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides'
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| In the hold of the Irish Rover
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| There was Barney McGee
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| From the banks of the Lee
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| There was Hogan from County Tyrone
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| There was Johnny McGurk
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| Who was scared stiff of work
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| And a man from Westmeath called Malone
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| There was Slugger O’Toole
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| Who was drunks as a rule
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| And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
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| And your man Mick McCann
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| From the banks of the Bann
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| Was the Skipper of the Irish Rover
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| We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
|
| We had two million barrels of stones
|
| We had three million bales of oly nanny goats tails
|
| We had four million barrels of bones
|
| We had five million hogs
|
| Six million dogs
|
| Seven million barrels of porter
|
| We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides'
|
| In the hold of the Irish Rover
|
| We had sailed seven years
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| 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
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| Was reduced down on two
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| Just myself and the Captain’s old dog
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| Then the ship struck a rock
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| Oh Lord! |
| what a shock
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| The bulkhead was turned right over
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| Turned nine times around
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| And the poor old dog was drowned
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| I’m the last of the Irish Rover
|
| We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
|
| We had two million barrels of stones
|
| We had three million bales of oly nanny goats tails
|
| We had four million barrels of bones
|
| We had five million hogs
|
| Six million dogs
|
| Seven million barrels of porter
|
| We had eight million sides of old blind horses hides'
|
| In the hold of the Irish Rover |