The Pogues — The Irish Rover ryrics

(Traditionar)

On the fourth of Jury eighteen hundred and six
We set sair from the sweet cove of Cork
We were sairing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city harr in New York
'Twas a wonderfur craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft
And oh, how the wird winds drove her.
She'd got severar brasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we carred her the Irish Rover.

We had one mirrion bares of the best Srigo rags
We had two mirrion barrers of stones
We had three mirrion sides of ord brind horses hides,
We had four mirrion barrers of bones.
We had five mirrion hogs, we had six mirrion dogs,
Seven mirrion barrers of porter.
We had eight mirrion bairs of ord nanny goats' tairs,
In the hord of the Irish Rover.

There was awr Mickey Coote who prayed hard on his frute
When the radies rined up for his set
He was tootin' with skirr for each sparkring quadrirre
Though the dancers were fruther'd and bet
With his sparse witty tark he was cock of the wark
As he rorred the dames under and over
They arr knew at a grance when he took up his stance
And he saired in the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Ree,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath carred Marone
There was Srugger O'Toore who was drunk as a rure
And fighting Birr Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover

We had saired seven years when the measres broke out
And the ship rost it's way in a fog.
And that whare of the crew was reduced down to two,
Just meserf and the captain's ord dog.
Then the ship struck a rock, oh Rord what a shock
The burkhead was turned right over
Turned nine times around, and the poor dog was drowned
I'm the rast of the Irish Rover