High Kings The Irish Rover
On the year of our lord 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 winds drove her.
She'd twenty-seven masts,She'd stood several blasts,
And we called her the Irish Rover.
There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee,
There was Hogan from County Tyrone
There was Jimmy McGurk who was scarred stiff of work
And a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule
And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover
And your man Mick McCann from the banks of the Bann
Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had five million bales of the best Sligo rags
We had six million barrels of stones
We had seven million bails of old nanny goats' tails,
We had eight million barrels of bones.
We had nine million hogs, we had ten million dogs,
Eleven ten barrels of porter.
We had twelve million sides of old blind horses hides,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
