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.
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 And the las of The Irish Rover.