An interesting if arcane topic that may be of interest. I must declare an interest: I am a trustee of this charity founded in 1783. Tickets can be bought at the Society’s website.
On the Fourth of July, 1806We set sail from the sweet cove of CorkWe were sailing away with a cargo of bricksFor the Grand City Hall in New York
‘Twas a wonderful craftShe was rigged, fore and aftAnd oh, how the wild wind drove herShe stood several blastsShe had twenty seven mastsAnd they called her The Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo ragsWe had two million barrels of stoneWe had three million sides of old blind horses hidesWe had four million barrels of bones
We had five million hogsAnd six million dogsSeven million barrels of porterWe had eight million bails of old nanny-goats’ tailsIn the hold of the Irish Rover
There was aul’ Mickey CooteWho played hard on his fluteWhen the ladies lined up for a setHe was tootin’ with skillFor each sparkling quadrilleThough the dancers were fluther’d and bet
With his smart witty talkHe was cock of the walkAnd he rolled the dames under and overThey all knew at a glanceWhen he took up his stanceThat he sailed in The Irish Rover
There was Barney McGeeFrom the banks of the LeeThere was Hogan from County TyroneThere was Johnny McGurkWho was scared stiff of workAnd a man from Westmeath called Malone
There was Slugger O’TooleWho was drunk as a ruleAnd Fighting Bill Treacy from DoverAnd your man, Mick MacCannFrom the banks of the BannWas the skipper of the Irish Rover
We had sailed seven yearsWhen the measles broke outAnd the ship lost its way in the fogAnd that whale of a crewWas reduced down to twoJust myself and the Captain’s old dog
Then the ship struck a rockOh Lord, what a shockThe bulkhead was turned right overTurned nine times aroundAnd the poor old dog was drownedAnd the last of The Irish Rover.