The Irish Rover by The Pogues with The Dubliners
On the 4th of July, 1806
We set sail from the sweet cove 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 wind drove her
She stood several blasts, she had twenty seven masts
And they called her The Irish Rover
We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags
We had two million barrels of stone
We had three million sides of old blind horses hides
We had four million barrels of bones
For you traditionalists, Michael Londra sings Danny Boy this St. Patrick’s Day.
Oh Danny Boy, the pipes, the pipes are calling,
From glen to glen, and down the mountain side.
The summer’s gone and all the roses falling
‘Tis you, ’tis you must go and I must bide.
But come ye back when summer’s in the meadow,
Or when the valley’s hushed and white with snow.
For I’ll be here in sunshine or in shadow;
Oh Danny Boy, oh Danny Boy, I love you so.
But when ye come, and all the flowers are dying,
And I am dead, as dead I well may be.
Ye’ll come and find the place where I am lying,
And kneel and say an Ave there for me.
And I shall hear, though soft you tread above me;
And all my grace will warm and sweeter be,
For ye shall bend and tell me that you love me;
And I shall sleep in peace until you come to