THE IRISH ROVER
In the year of our Lord, eighteen hundred and six
We set sail from our sweet cove of Cork
We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks
For the grand city hall in New York
She was an elegant craft, rigged fore'd-and-aft
And oh, how the wild winds drove her.
She could stand several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts
And we called her the Irish Rover.
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away;
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away.
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags,
We had two million barrels of stone;
We had three million sides of blind horses' hides,
We had four million barrels of bone.
And five million hogs, six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter;
We had eight million bales of old nanny goat tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away;
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away.
We had 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 fella from Westmeath called Malone.
There was Slugger O'Toole who was drunk as a rule,
Fightin' Bill Treacy from Dover;
And Nolan from McClare he's as strong as a bear,
He's the skipper of the Irish Rover.
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away;
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away.
We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out,
And our ship lost her way in a fog;
Then the whole of our crew it was reduced down to two,
Just me'self and the captain's old dog.
Then the ship struck a rock! Lord, what a shock!
It turned the boat right over;
And she spun nine times around, the poor old dog was drowned -
Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover.
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away;
Fare thee well, my pretty little girl,
I must sail away.
FAREWELL TO NOVA SCOTIA
The sun was setting in the West
The birds were singing on every tree
All nature seemed inclined for the rest
Still, there was no rest for me.
Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast,
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I'm far away, on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?
I grieve to leave my native land
I grieve to leave my comrades all
And my parents whom I love so dear
And the bonny, bonny lass that I do adore.
Farewell to Nova Scotia, the sea-bound coast,
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I'm far away, on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?
Drums do beat, wars do alarm
The captain, he calls; I must obey
So farewell, farewell, to my Nova Scotia charms
It's early in the morning I'm far, far away
Farewell to Nova Scotia, my sea-bound coast,
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I'm far away, on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?
I have three brothers and they are at rest.
Their arms are folded on their breast,
But a poor, simple sailor just like me
Must be tossed and driven on the dark, blue sea.
Farewell to Nova Scotia, my sea-bound coast,
Let your mountains dark and dreary be
For when I'm far away, on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?
For when I'm far away, on the briny ocean tossed,
Will you ever heave a sigh or a wish for me?