Dance of the Irish Flute - Connor McQuillan

In the year of our lord eighteen hundred and six We set sail from the coal quay of Cork We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks For the Grand City Hall of New York We had an elegant craft She was rigged fore and aft And oh, how the wild winds drove her She had twenty seven masts And withstood 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 chap 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 We had five million bags of the best Sligo rags We had six million barrels of stones We had seven million bales of old nanny goats tails We had eight million barrels of bones We had nine million hogs Ten million dogs Eleven million barrels of porter We had twelve million sides of old blind horses hides' In the hold of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven years When the measles broke out And the ship lost its way in a fog And that whole of a crew Was reduced down to two Just myself and the Captain's old dog Well the ship struck a rock Oh Lord! what a shock The boat she turned right over She turned nine times around And the poor old dog was drowned I'm the last of The Irish Rover