The Irish Rover è una canzone tradizionale irlandese che parla del disastro in mare di un vascello in viaggio dall'Irlanda all'America. È stata cantata e registrata da numerosi artisti, alcuni dei quali hanno apportato modifiche al testo.

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Testo originale

In the year of our lord, eighteen hundred and six,

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 how the wild winds drove her

She had twenty-three masts, she 'stood several blasts

And they called her the Irish Rover

There was Barney McGee from the banks of the Lee

There was Hogan from County Tyrone

There was Johnny McGurk who was scared stiff of work

And a man from Westmeath named 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 on the Irish Rover

We had one million bags of the best Sligo rags

We had two million barrels of stones

We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails

We had four million barrels of bones

We had five million hogs and six million dogs

And seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million sides of old blind horses' hides

On the board of the Irish Rover

We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out

And our ship lost her way in the fog

And the whole of the crew was reduced down to two

'Twas meself and the captain's old dog

Then the ship struck a rock; oh Lord what a shock

The bulkhead was turned right over

We turned nine times around - then the poor old dog got drowned

Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover

Varianti

La versione cantata dai The Pogues e dai The Dubliners ha due strofe che non fanno parte del testo tradizionale.

There was awl Mickey Coote

Who played hard on his flute

When the ladies lined up for a set

He was tootin' with skill

For each sparkling quadrille

Though the dancers were fluther'd and bet

With his smart witty talk

He was cock of the walk

And he rolled the dames under and over

They all knew at a glance

When he took up his stance

That he sailed in The Irish Rover

For a sailor it's always a bother in life

It's so lonesome by night and day

That he longs for the shore

And a charming young whore

Who will melt all his troubles away

Oh, the noise and the rout

Swillin' poitin and stout

For him soon the torment's over

Of the love of a maid

He is never afraid

An old salt from the Irish Rover

Ci sono inoltre altri piccoli cambiamenti nella versione dei The Pogues:

Prima strofa, primo verso:

On the Fourth of July, Eighteen Hundred and Six

Prima strofa, quinto verso:

'Twas a wonderful craft, she was rigged fore-and-aft

Prima strofa, penultimo verso:

She stood several blasts, she had twenty-seven masts

Collegamenti esterni

• (EN) The Irish Rover, su Discogs, Zink Media.
• (EN) The Irish Rover, su MusicBrainz, MetaBrainz Foundation.

Portale Irlanda

Portale Musica

На других языках

[en] The Irish Rover