The Annapolis Irish Rowing Drinking Song!
The Irish Rowers (to the tune of “The Irish Rover”) 

In the year of our Lord, nineteen eighty and two
We set to row from our fair Mary-Land
We were bound to the end, many currachs to pursue
For the finish line, missing dock, ships and sand. 
In a very fine craft, she was rigged for and aft
And oh, how the wild waves drove her.
We had twenty-three oars and withstood several blasts
And we’re called the Irish Rowers.

There was Todd Curran, he was just learnin’
There was Miss Young, she was never done
And a chap called Black, who always ready to attack
And a gal never borin’, she was Lauren 
There was Shane Boyle, whose strokes never spoil
And fighting Martine, who’s never slower
There was Egan from Crofton who was yelling quite often
And was the skipper of the Irish Rowers. 

We had one million blisters from old oars getting twisters
We had two million burns on our butts, 
We had three million cramps from not having boat ramps
And they all still called us nuts. 
We used five million curses; we had six million more verses
And seven million barrels of beer
We had eight million groupies, all wanting whoopie
In the hearts of the Irish Rowers. 

We had rowed seven years when the canvas wore out
And the ship lost her way in the bay
And the whole of the crew was reduced unto two,
Much to myself and the captain’s dismay. 
Then the ship struck a rock with a terrible shock
And she heeled right over,
Turned nine times around, and the captain was drowned…

I’m the last of the Irish Rowers. 



by Todd Curran 
01-05-02 

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