Karaoke The Irish Rover by The Dubliners, The Pogues — sing along with lyrics on Singa

The Irish Rover Karaoke

The PoguesThe Dubliners

LyricsThe Irish Rover

On the Fourth of July

Eighteen hundred and six

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 stones

We had three million

barrels of old blind

horses hides

We had four million

barrels of bones

We had five million hogs

six million dogs

seven million

barrels of porter

We had eight million

sides of old nanny

goate tails

in the hold of the

Irish Rover

There was awl

Mickey Coote

who plays hard

on his flute

When the ladies line up

for a set

he would tootle

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

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 Tracy

from Dover and your man

Mick McCann from the

banks of the Bann was the

skipper on the Irish Rover

For a sailor it's always

a bother in life

it's so lonesome

by night and by day

That he longs for

the shore and a charming

young whore

who will melt

all his troubles away

Oh the noise and the rout

swillin' poiteen and stout

For him soon the

torment's over of the love

of a maid he is never

afraid an old 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 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

I'm the last of

The Irish Rover

Composer
Traditional
Lyrics
Traditional
Publisher
Waltons Ltd