Irish Rover - Live at Gate of Horn, Chicago, IL - 1961

And the year of our Lord eighteen hundred and six
 We set sail from the port quay of Cork
 We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
 For the grand City Hall in New York
 We'd a near-leaking craft, she was rigged fore and aft
 And how the trade winds drove her
 She had twenty-three masts and she stood several blasts
 And they called her the Irish Rover
 And there was Bobby McGee from the banks of the Leith
 There was Hogan from county Tyrone
 There was John D. McGirk, who was scared stiff of work
 And a chap from Westmeath named Malone
 We had 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
 We had two million barrels of pone
 We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails
 We had four million barrels of stone
 We had five million hogs and six million dogs
 Seven million barrels of porter
 We had eight million sides of a blind horses' hides
 In the hold of the Irish Rover
 We had sailed seven years when the mizzens broke out
 And the ship lost her way in the fog
 And the whale of a crew was reduced down to two
 'Twas meself and the captain's old dog
 Well, the ship struck a rock, oh, Lord what a shock
 I nearly tumbled over
 Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned
 I'm the last of the Irish Rover