The Irish Rover Lyrics - If I Should Fall From Grace With God - Pogues

On the 4th 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 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 tootin' 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, Mick MacCann from the banks of the Bann 

Was the skipper of 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 

I'm the last of The Irish Rover