The Irish Rover

Ronnie DrewRonnie Drew 

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Ronnie Drew

Joseph Ronald "Ronnie" Drew (Irish: Ránall Ó Draoi IPA: [ˈɾˠaːnəl̪ˠ oː dɾˠiː]) (16 September 1934 – 16 August 2008) was an Irish singer and folk musician who achieved international fame during a fifty-year career recording with The Dubliners. Born in Dun Laoghaire, County Dublin, he was recognisable for his long beard and his voice, which was once described by Nathan Joseph as being "like the sound of coke being crushed under a door". more »

Year:

2007

4:08

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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 stones
We had three million sides 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 played hard on his flute
And the ladies lined 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
As 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 of the Irish Rover

For a sailor its' 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 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 (1, 2, 3!)
I'm the last of The Irish Rover

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