'The Irish Rover' (J.M. Crofts) 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 a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft And oh, how the wild winds drove her. She'd got several blasts, she'd twenty-seven masts And we called her the Irish Rover. We had one million bales of the best Sligo rags We had two million barrels of stones We had three million sides of old blind