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70 lines
2.4 KiB
70 lines
2.4 KiB
16 years ago
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\begin{SBVerse*}
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On the \Ch{G}{Fourth} of July, \Ch{C}{1806}
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We set \Ch{G}{sail} from the sweet Cobh of \Ch{D}{Cork}
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We were \Ch{G}{sailing} away with a \Ch{C}{cargo} of bricks
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For the \Ch{G}{Grand} City \Ch{D}{Hall} in New \Ch{G}{York}
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'Twas a \Ch{G}{wonderful} craft, She was \Ch{D}{rigged} fore and aft
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And \Ch{G}{oh}, how the wild wind \Ch{D}{drove} her
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She stood \Ch{G}{several} blasts, She had \Ch{C}{twenty} seven masts
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And they \Ch{G}{called} her The \Ch{D}{Irish} \Ch{G}{Rover}
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\end{SBVerse}
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~\\
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~\\
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~\\
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We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags\\
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We had two million barrels of stones\\
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We had three million sides of old blind horses hides'\\
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We had four million barrels of bones\\
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We had five million hogs, six million dogs\\
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Seven million barrels of porter\\
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We had eight million barrels of old nanny goate tails\\
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In the hold of the Irish Rover\\
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~\\
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~\\
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There was awl Mickey Coote who played hard on his flute\\
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And the ladies lined up for a set\\
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He would tootle with skill for each sparkling quadrille\\
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Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet\\
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With his smart witty talk, he was cock of the walk\\
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As he rolled the dames under and over\\
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They all knew at a glance when he took up his stance\\
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That he sailed in The Irish Rover\\
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~\\
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~\\
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~\\
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There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee\\
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There was Hogan from County Tyrone\\
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There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work\\
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And a man from Westmeath called Malone\\
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There was Slugger O'Toole, who was drunk as a rule\\
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And Fighting Bill Tracy from Dover\\
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And your man, Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann\\
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Was the skipper of the Irish Rover\\
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~\\
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~\\
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For a sailor its' always a bother in life\\
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It's so lonesome by night and by day\\
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That he longs for the shore and a charming young whore \\
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Who will melt all his troubles away\\
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Oh, the noise and the rout swillin' poiteen and stout\\
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For him soon the torment's over\\
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Of the love of a maid he is never afraid\\
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An old salt from the Irish Rover\\
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~\\
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~\\
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We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out\\
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And the ship lost its way in the fog\\
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And that whale of a crew was reduced down to two\\
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Just myself and the Captain's old dog\\
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Then the ship struck a rock. Oh Lord! what a shock\\
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The bulkhead was turned right over\\
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Turned nine times around and the poor old dog was drowned\\
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I'm the last of The Irish Rover
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