I found a different version of lyrics to this song than the ones in the database.
Most notable differences:
1s verse 1st line,
4th verse, 10th and 11th line
5th verse (not found in database at all)

Mudguard

Irish Rover

On the fourth of July eighteenhundred 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 now how the wild winds 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,
We had five million hogs,
Six million dogs,
Seven million barrels of porter,
We had eight million bails
Of old nanny goats' tails,
In the hold of the Irish Rover.

There was old Mickey Coote
Who played hard on his flute
When the ladies lined up for the set.
He was tootlin' with skill
For each sparkling quadrille
For the dancers were fluthered and bet
With his smart witty talk
He was cock of the walk
And he rolled the dames under and over
They all knew how to dance
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 Tracy 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 live
It's so lonesome by night and by day.
That he longs for the shore
And a charming young whore
Who will melt all his troubles away.
All the noise and the rout
Stew and poteen and stout
For him soon it's done and over
Of the lord of a maid
He is never afraid
An old soul of the Irish Rover.

We had sailed seven years,
When the measles broke out
And our ship lost its way in the fog,
And the whale of the crew
Was reduced down to two.
Just myself and the captain's old dog,
Then the ship struck a rock,
Oh Lord what a shock,
The bow it was turned right over,
Turned nine times around
And the poor old dog was drowned,
I'm the last of the Irish Rover.