Day 626, The Irish Rover

On the fourth of July twenty sixteen we set on the brief walk to work
And all of the day it was hard not to say that this tune was not once in my head
er, etc...*

On the Fourth of July 1806 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 stone
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides, we had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogs, and six million dogs, seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bails of old nanny-goats' tails in the hold of the Irish Rover

There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute when the ladies lined up for a set
He was tootlin' 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 and 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 Tracey from Dover
And your man, Mike McCann from the banks of the Bann was the skipper on the Irish Rover

For a sailor it's always a bother in life It's so lonesome by night and 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' potin 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 it's way in the fog
And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two, just meself 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 I'm the last of the Irish Rover

* Lazy.

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