Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Irish Rover , by - The High Kings. Song from the album Four Friends Live, in the genre Музыка мираRelease date: 13.11.2014
Record label: Celtic Collections
Song language: English
Song information On this page you can read the lyrics of the song Irish Rover , by - The High Kings. Song from the album Four Friends Live, in the genre Музыка мираIrish 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 |
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