In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and six, We set sail from the cold quay of Cork We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks For the grand City Hall in New York She was a wonderful craft, she was rigged 'fore and aft And lord how the trade winds drove her She had twenty-three masts, and she stood several blasts And they called her 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 on the Irish Rover We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags We had two million barrels of bone We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails We had four million barrels of stone We had five million hogs and six million dogs And seven million barrels of porter We had eight million sides of old blind horse's hides In the hold of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out And our ship lost her way in the fog And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two 'Twas meself and the captain's old dog Then the ship struck a rock; oh Lord what a shock We nearly tumbled over Turned nine times around - and the poor old dog was drowned Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover