The Irish Rover (The Dubliners and The Pogues - 1987)

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The Dubliners
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Текст, перевод и аккорды “The Irish Rover (The Dubliners and The Pogues - 1987)”
On the Fourth 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 for 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 tootlin' 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, Mike McCann from the banks of the Bann was the skipper on the Irish Rover For a sailor it`s a bother of life, it`s so lonesome by night and by day When he longs for the shore and a charming young whore who will melt all his troubles away All the noise and the rout swillin` poitin and stout, for him soon is done and over Of the love of a maid he is never afraid, that ould salt from the Irish rover We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out and the ship lost it's way in the fog And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two, just meself 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

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