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Irish Rover
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A fun song of the sea.
In the beginning was the Irish Stout, and the stout was good. The Irish Stout was SO good, in fact, we started singing about it--Irish Pub Songs. The Irish song
In the beginning was the Irish Stout, and the stout was good. The Irish Stout was SO good, in fact, we started singing about it--Irish Pub Songs. The Irish songs flowed as prolifically as the stout. Irish Stout is no longer just a dark beer made from roasting malts and barley. Now it is also a band--a couple friends who love drinking songs as much as they love drinking. We don't care about politics, religion, or being the most-traditional band in the world. Our sound is sharp, unique, and designed for hours of good old-fashioned song as you drink the night away. So if you're looking for traditional "Celtic music", leave now. We're gonna show you the FUN, RAUCOUS side of Celtic music. The type of music that might get your toes tapping, your beer splashing, your hearts racing, your eyes laughing, your thoughts crafting, your body thrashing, and your voice cracking from too much singing. Yeah. We know what you want to hear. Because we want to hear it too! So go ahead. Grab a pint of Irish Stout and join us in the pub. It doesn't have to be the same Irish pub. Yours will do. Just bring the CD out and give it to the bartender and say, I want music I can sing to! Then let the Irish Stout start flowing and satiate your thirst so that every day is St. Patrick's Day, thanks to Irish Stout.
Song Info
Charts
#7,112 today Peak #100
#151 in subgenre Peak #7
Author
words and music traditional
Rights
2007
Uploaded
October 20, 2007
Track Files
MP3
MP3 3.2 MB 320 kbps 3:32
Lyrics
On the fourth of July eighteen hundred and six We set sail from the sweet Cobh of Cork We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks For the grand city hall in New York 'Twas an elegant craft, she was rigged fore and aft And how the wild wind drove her She could stand a great blast in her twenty seven masts And we called her the Irish Rover There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee There was Hogan from County Tyrone There was Johnny McGuirk who was scared stiff of work And a chap from Westmeath called Malone There was 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 one million bags of the best Sligo rags We had two million barrels of stones We had three million sides of old blind horses hides We had four million barrels of bones We had five million hogs, six million dogs We had seven million barrels of porter We had eight million bales of old nanny goat tails In the hold of the Irish Rover We had sailed seven years when the measels broke out And our ship lost it's way in the fog (big fog) Then the whole of the crew was reduced down to two Just myself and the captain's old dog The ship struck a rock, Lord what a shock The boat, it was flipped 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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