Bonus Content: The Halfling Rover

The Irish Rover, rewritten for Calcinea

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Lyrics
On the Fourth of Full Boughs, 1786

We set sail from the sweet Cove of Arc

We were sailing away with a cargo of bricks

For the Grand City Hall in Newmark

'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 Halfling Rover

We had one million bags of the best Caernese 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

Six million dogs

Seven million barrels of porter

We had eight million bales of old nanny-goats' tails

In the hold of the Halfling Rover

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 Halfling Rover

There was Bessie MacKath

From the banks of the Dove

There was Logan from Merry Old Stone

There was Jenny McGurk

Who was scared stiff of work

And a man from Westmare called Malone

There was Slugger O'Toole

Who was drunk as a rule

And fighting young Tracy from Clover

And your girl, Mama Curl From the banks of the Churl Was the skipper of the Halfling Rover

We had sailed seven years When the measles broke out And the ship lost its way in the fog

And that whale of a crew Was reduced down to two Just myself and the Captain's old dog

Then the ship struck a rock Oh cock! what a shock The bulkhead was turned right over

Turned nine times around And the poor old dog was drowned I’m the last of The Halfling Rover