Song information On this page you can find the lyrics of the song Irish Rover, artist - Fiddler's Green. Album song Acoustic Pub Crawl, in the genre Фолк-рок
Date of issue: 20.09.2012
Record label: Deaf Shepherd
Song language: English
Irish Rover |
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 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 stones |
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides' |
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 nanny goate tails |
In the hold of the Irish Rover |
There was awl Mickey Coote |
Who played hard on his flute |
And the ladies lined up for a set |
He would tootle 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 |
As 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 Tyrone |
There was Johnny McGurk |
Who was scared stiff of work |
And a man from Westmeath called Malone |
There was Slugger O’Toole |
Who was drunk as a rule |
And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover |
And your man, Mick McCann |
From the banks of the Bann |
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover |
For a sailor its' always a bother in life |
It’s so lonesome by night and by day |
That he longs for the shore |
And a charming young whore |
Who will melt all his troubles away |
Oh, the noise and the rout |
Swillin' poiteen and stout |
For him soon the torment’s over |
Of the love of a maid he is never afraid |
An old salt from 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 |
Then 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 (1, 2, 3!) |
I’m the last of The Irish Rover |