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 an elegant craft, she was rigged fore and aft,
And how the wild wind drove her,
She could stand a great blast in her 27 masts,
And we called her the Irish Rover.

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags,
We had two million barrells of stones,
We had 3 million sides of old blind horses hides,
We had 4 million barrels of bone.
We had 5 million hogs, 6 million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter,
We had 8 million bales of old nanny goat tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone,
There was Johnny McGuirk 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 Tracey from Dover.
Ther was Dolan from Clare, just as strong as a bear,
All aboard on the Irish Rover.

We had sailed 7 years when the measels broke out,
And our ship lost its way in the fog.
The the whole of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just myself and the captain's old dog.
The ship struck a rock, Lord what a shock,
The boat, it was flipped right over,
Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned,
I'm the last of the Irish Rover.