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 for 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

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 Treacy 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 a bother of life, it`s so lonesome by 
night and by day 
When he longs for the shore and a charming young whore 
who will melt all his troubles away 
All the noise and the rout swillin` poitin and stout, 
for him soon is done and over 
Of the love of a maid he is never afraid, that ould 
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