Tonalité : G major•
Intro 1
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Em
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Verse 1
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On the 4th of July,
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1806,
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we set sail from the sweet Cove of Orr.
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We were sailing away with
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a cargo of rigs
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for the Grand City Hall in New York.
T 'was a wonderful crowd,
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she was rigged for an aft.
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Oh, how the wild wind drove over
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She conserved a blast,
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she had twenty -seven masts
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And they call her the Irish Rover
We had one million packs
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of the best like rags
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We had two million bottles of stones
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We had three million sides
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of a blind foresight
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We had four million bottles of bones
We had five million hawks
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and six million ducks
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Seven million barrels of water
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We had eight million bays
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of banana goat tails
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In the hold of the Irish Rover
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Em
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That was old Mickey Coot
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who played hard on his flute
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when the ladies lined up for his set.
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He was tooting whiskey
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for his sparkling quadrille,
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though the dancers were flubber and met.
With his parts we'd talk,
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he was cock of the walk
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As he rode the Thames under and over
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They all knew at a glance,
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when he took up his stance
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That he sailed in the Irish Rover
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There was Barney McGee,
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from the banks of the Lee
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There was Hogan for County Tyrone
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There was Johnny McGurk,
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who was Kerstie for work
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And a man from Westmeath called Malone
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There was Lager O'Toole,
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he was drunk as a rule
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And fighting Bill Tracy from Dover
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And your man, Mim again,
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from the bands of the men
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Was the skipper of the Irish Rover
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In a sail seven years,
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when the measles broke out
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And the ship lost its way in the bog
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And the dwell of the crew
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was reduced down to two
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Just myself and the captain,
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so I thought
Then the ship struck a rock,
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oh Lord, what a shock!
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The boat was turned right over.
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Then the knight turns around,
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and the poor dog was drowned.
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I'm the last of the Irish Rover!
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Then the ship struck a rock,
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Oh God, what a shock!
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The boat was turned right over,
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Turned nine times around,
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And the poor dog was drowned.
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I'm the last of the Ir ish Rover!
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