Traditional Irish song. Sung also by the Pogues. It is worth noting that this is the version The Pogues sing, and I have seen another variant (which you will find at the end of WU)

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 tootin' 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 (also:When he took off his pants)
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 Treacy from Dover
And your man, Mick MacCann
From the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper 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 last of The Irish Rover

Another version

In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and six
we set sail from the coal quay of Cork
We were bound far away with a cargo of bricks
for the fine city hall of New York
In a very fine craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
and oh, how the wild winds drove her
She had twenty-three masts and withstood several blasts
and we called her the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee
there was Hogan from County Tyrone
And Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work
and a chap from West Meath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
and fighting Bill Casey from Dover
There was Dooley from Claire who was strong as a bear
and was skipper of the Irish Rover

We had one million bales of old nanny goats' tails
we had two million barrels of stones
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
we had four million packets of bones
We had five million hogs, and six million dogs
and seven million barrels of porter
We had eight million bags of the best Sligo rags
in the hold of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out
and the ship lost her way in a fog (BIG FOG!)
And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two
'Twas myself and the captain's old dog
Then the ship struck a rock, Oh Lord what a shock
and then she heeled right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the last of the Irish Rover

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