Irish Rover

Traditional

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On the Fourth of July, eighteen hundred and six
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We set sail from the sweet Cobh of Cork
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We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
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For the Grand City Hall in New York
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'Twas a wonderful craft
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She was rigged fore and aft
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And oh, how the wild wind drove her
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She stood several blasts
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She had twenty seven masts
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And they called her The Irish Rover

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We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
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We had two million barrels of stone
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We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
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We had four million barrels of bones
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We had five million hogs
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And six million dogs
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Seven million barrels of porter
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We had eight million bails of old nanny-goats' tails
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In the hold of the Irish Rover

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