Love that band, early albums with late Layne Staley were amazing. The new band is still so enjoyable to listen to.
Seen the new band twice, the new guy's voice is perfect! they nail the songs! the new material is definitely missing Layne, but still good
At 61 yo me and my new 5-11 rocker/biker GF love this tune. She's very loud and vocal. Twice a night minimum. Happiest I've been in twenty years. And biking season hasn't started. She's a bit shy about doing a babes and bike photos, cause she carries a badge.
On the fourth of July, 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 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 bone We had three million bales of old nanny goats' tails We had four million barrels of stone We had five million dogs, six million hogs Seven million barrels of porter We had eight million sides of old blind horses' hides In the hold of The Irish Rover There was ole Mickey Coote, who played hard on his flute When the ladies'd line up for a set He was tootlin' with skill for each sparkling quadrille 'Till 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 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 called Malone There was Slugger O'Toole, who was drunk as a rule And fighting Bill Tracey from Dover And your man, Mick McCann, from the banks of the Bann Was the skipper on The Irish Rover For a sailor, it's always a bother of life It's so lonesome by night and by day That he longs for the shore, and a pretty young whore Who will melt all his troubles away All the noise, and the rout, swillin' poitin and stout For him, soon it's done and over Of the love of a maid, he is never afraid An old salt from The Irish Rover We had sailed seven years when the measles broke out And the ship lost its way in the fog And the whale of a crew was reduced down to two Myself and the captain's old dog Then the ship struck a rock, oh Lord, what a shock The bulkhead was turned right over Turned nine times around, then the poor old dog was drowned (2, 3!) I'm the last of The Irish Rover! Show less
