O Irlandês Rover

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

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, Mike McCann from the banks of the Bann was the skipper on 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 and the last of the Irish Rover

No Quatro de Julho de 1806, zarpamos da doce enseada de Cork

Estávamos navegando com uma carga de tijolos para a grandiosa Prefeitura de Nova York

Era uma embarcação maravilhosa, estava armada de proa a popa e oh, como o vento forte a empurrava

Ela suportou várias rajadas, tinha vinte e sete mastros e a chamavam de Irlandês Rover

Tínhamos um milhão de sacos dos melhores trapos de Sligo, tínhamos dois milhões de barris de pedra

Tínhamos três milhões de peles de velhos cavalos cegos, tínhamos quatro milhões de barris de ossos

Tínhamos cinco milhões de porcos e seis milhões de cães, sete milhões de barris de cerveja

Tínhamos oito milhões de caudas de velhas cabras no porão do Irlandês Rover

Havia o Mickey Coote que tocava forte sua flauta quando as damas se alinhavam para dançar

Ele tocava com habilidade para cada quadrilha brilhante, embora os dançarinos estivessem bêbados e tontos

Com seu papo esperto, ele era o rei da festa e fazia as moças rodopiarem

Todos sabiam de relance quando ele tomava sua posição que ele navegava no Irlandês Rover

Havia Barney McGee das margens do Lee, havia Hogan do Condado de Tyrone

Havia Johnny McGurk que tinha medo de trabalhar e um homem de Westmeath chamado Malone

Havia Slugger O'Toole que estava sempre bêbado e Fighting Bill Treacy de Dover

E o seu homem, Mike McCann das margens do Bann, era o capitão do Irlandês Rover

Navegamos por sete anos quando a sarampo estourou e o navio se perdeu na neblina

E aquela tripulação enorme foi reduzida a dois, só eu e o velho cachorro do capitão

Então o navio bateu em uma rocha, Oh Senhor! que choque, a parede de contenção virou completamente

Virou nove vezes e o pobre velho cachorro se afogou e foi o fim do Irlandês Rover