The Irish Rover

Cân werin Wyddelig Saesneg yw "The Irish Rover". Mae teitl y gân yn cyfeirio at long fawr sydd yn teithio o Iwerddon i Efrog Newydd ond nad yw'n cyrraedd. Mae wedi'i chanu gan nifer o wahanol gerddorion a bandiau.

"The Irish Rover", Celtic Aire, United States Air Force Band, 2014

Geiriau gwreiddiol

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

We set sail from the Coal Quay of Cork

We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks

For the grand City Hall in New York

We'd an elegant craft, it was rigged 'fore and aft

And how the trade winds drove her

She had twenty-three masts and 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 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 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 sides of old blind horses' hides

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 bales of old nanny goats' tails

In the hold 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 was drowned

Now I'm the last of the Irish Rover

Amrywiadau

Yn y fersiwn a ganwyd gan The Irish Rovers, y pennill olaf yw:

...And the crew left alive were reduced down to five

Just ourselves and the captain's old dog

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

We nearly tumbled over

Turned nine times around, and the poor old dog was drowned

We're the last of the Irish Rover

Mae trydydd linell y pennill cyntaf hefyd yn wahanol:

Down below in the hold was a cargo of bricks

Dyma'r pennill cyntaf yn fersiwn Bounding Main:

In the year of our Lord fifteen hundred and six

We set sail from the cold bay of Cork

We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks

For that grand city hall down in York

An elegant craft she was rigged fore and aft

And how the trade winds drove her

She had twenty-three masts and she stood several blasts

And they called her the Irish Rover

Yn y fersiwn a ganwyd gan The Pogues a The Dubliners, mae dau bennill ychwanegol:

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

Mae yna hefyd amrywiad yn y llinell olaf ond un ym mhennill cyntaf y fersiwn hwn:

She stood several blasts, she had twenty-seven masts

ac hefyd yn y llinell gyntaf:

On the Fourth of July, Eighteen Hundred and Six