 The Ulster
Orange
Unionist
Loyalist ~~~~Songbook
Part 5
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The Orange Banner
Come! Shake forth the banner! Let Northern winds fan her!
She hath blazed over Erin three ages and more;
Through danger we'll hold her, the fewer the bolder,
As constant and true as our fathers before.
The bright Orange banner! The ensign of honor!
It waves o'er the head of true Protestants still;
Ho, Orangemen! Rally from the mountain and valley,
Around the old flagstaff on liberty's hill.
Through the "broad stone of honor" that flagstaff is founded,
Deep,deep, in the sure Rock of Ages below,
It stood when rebellion's wild temper resounded,
And shall stand, by God's grace, though again it should blow
Then hoist the bright banner! The ensign of honor!
Let Northen winds fan her! Up, up and away!
To Papist and Faitour, to tyrant and traitor,
Shake forth the old flag of defiance, hurrah!
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Success to the Orange Wherever it Goes
Let the name of Great William be ever held dear,
By each loyal subject throughout the whole land
For from heaven he looks down on his children met here
And smiles with delight on this Protestant band;
Who with hearts firm and bold
Like their fathers of old,
Rally round this bright standard in spite of our foes
And who will, until death,
Put a stop to our breath,
Sing--"Success to the Orange where ever it goes!"
Although certain persons, well known in this isle,
Have vainly endeavoured on us for to frown,
Yet, at their weak efforts, we safely may smile.--
It's not in their power to put Orangemen down
With aid from on high
Their threats we defy,
And our cause it will flourish in spite of our foes;
Then who will, until death
Put a stop to our breath,
There's --"Success to the Orange where ever it goes!"
Though bigoted wretches, who judge by themselves,
Have asserted "that we are for murder enrolled."
'Tis their own sable hearts first gave birth to the thought,
As we see by their plots which day does enfold.
But truth, like a star
Which shines from afar,
To a candid observer convincingly shows
that 'gainst rebels alone
Our vengeance is shown;
So--"Success to the Orange wherever it goes!"
Now a full- flowing glass to Lord Farnham we'll pass,
The yeomen's brave father, their country's firm prop;
To Enniskillen so bold to his praise be it told,
He'd ne'er hang a yeoman for shooting a Crop,
To the King fill it high
Let our song reach the sky,
And no more may rebellion disturb his repose;
Here's our stout wooden walls,
Which no danger appalls
And--"Success to the Orange wherever it goes!"
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An Advice to Orangemen
air-"The rejected Mason"
All ye who Orange colors wear,
And wish to be instructed,
Go place the Bible in the chair,
And by it be conducted;
For if Jehovah's voice ye hear,
And are by Him directed,
Your enemies ye need not fear,
For ye will be protected.
Search through that volume and behold.
How His Almighty arm
Preserved the Israelites of old,
And kept them free from harm;
He sent them Moses for their guide,
And fully him instructed.
How Israel through the raging tide
By Him should be conducted.
Next Joshua was forward sent
Fair Canaan to discover,
Across the Jordan first he went
And brought all Israel over;
The heathen fast before them flew,
Convuls'd with fear and wonder,
For He who saved His chosen few,
Oft spoke in tones of thunder,
While Israel to the law gave heed,
And on it meditated
Peace, wealth, and honor was their meed,
And Kings their hearts elated:
But turning to idolatry,
They met with desolation,
A high decree caus'd them to be
Dispersed through every nation.
But still the Lord, in darkest age,
Had many true believers,
Who lov'd to read His holy page,
In spite of all deceivers;
When guilty Rome would to the tomb
Consign His revelation,
A chosen few were still found true
In every Christian nation.
Now since from superstition's sway
The present generation
As yet is sav'd let us to-day
make steady preparation--
At heaven's command to keep our land
From heathen's pollution,
From foreign yoke, and fatal stroke
Of Popish revolution.
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The Cannon of the 'Prentice Boys
"On enquiry being made at an early hour on Monday, on the subject of
the cannon belonging to the Apprentice Boys, the reply was received that
the arms had already been removed beyond the proclaimed district"--Londonderry
Sentinel.
No! They are sacred! They shall fall into no stranger's hand~
By cowards or by traitors they never yet were manned.
What! Shall we not be trusted with the guns which one of yore
Sent reeling back a rebel for from the
Foyle's blood stained shore?
For on a time (it is not yet two hundred years ago--
But old things are forgotten now, men are progressing so ),
Our 'Prentice Boys shut too our gates,
Vowing to keep them fast,
And for God, and King, and liberty,
top hold them to the last.
They did it, too, through summer's heat and through wild winder's storm:
Undaunted or by shot or by shell, or famine's ghastly form,
Until the shadows of the Boys who first the gates had closed,
Gave back, unstained, the sacred trust which was in them reposed.
They left to us these relics of their dearly bought renown,
And ere dishonored from their place they should be taken down,
The spectres who once manned our walls would start from out their graves,
And hurl them from their battlements into the Foyle's dark waves.
And may we not be trusted now? Our Boys are still the same
As they were then--we boast them still- they have not stained their
fame;
Loyal through many a lawless day--peaceful in days of ease---
Ready to fight at Britain's call far over distant seas.
'Tis not long since that ruin spread o'er
India's hills and plains,
And murder, war, and rapine raged
o'eer her wild domains
Methinks 'twas little cause of fear or question to us then
That her farthest and her firmest posts were held by Derry men.
Aye you may seek, and seek in vain
for truer hearts than ours---
True when the sun shines on our walls--
true when the tempest lowers--
True in these days when many change
for profit or for bread--
True to the same old sacred cause for
which our fathers bled.
And, if the cloud should ever burst
that now hangs overhead,
At which all eyes are looking up with
a foreboding dread,
And if brave men are wanting yet to
stand for Britain's crown.
See these guns be not missing then, nor
these ramparts trodden down
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The Battle of the Diamond,
21st of September 1795
air- "Not a drum was heard"
It was not in faction, it was not in hate,
That we men of the north assembled;
It was that our own and our children's fate
In the balance no longer trembled
For there came--'twas at night,--a lawless band,
Their ranks like a torrent swelling;
With the weapon of slaughter in each man's hand,
Where we in our homes were dwelling.
Darkly they camel, in the d ead of night,
They gave no word of warning;
And they laugh'd at the blaze their brands should light,
And the smoke that should greet the morning.
They paus'd-- did they fear the storm they'd woke
that they faltered as forth we sailed?
For we saw when the light of the morning broke
On the Diamond Hill they'd rallied.
What though they were many, and we but few,
Yet each to the conflict hasted;
And the shot was sharp and the aim was true.
While that fearful struggle lasted.
Yet last it did-- aye, many a day!
But the shield of our God was o'er us;
Till at last, like a quarry long held at bay,
We drove them like chaff before us.
Then blame us not when all was o'er
And we look'd on the dead around us;
If then, and forever, an oath we swore
To be found as that day had found us.
Stern and steadfast and l inked as one,
On God and ourselves relying;
Seeking quarrel of feud with none,
But all on our hearths defying
Traver se who will that wretched land,
Now rive with revolt and riot;
And where'er ye shall hear of our loyal band;
There alone ye shall find it quiet.
Yes! Cold suspicion and scoff and scorn
And calumny have assail'd us;
Aye! Hard though it was--all these we've borne'
Not once have our true hearts fail'd us.
We have bided our time--it is well nigh come;
It will find us stern and steady;
It will need not to rouse us with trumpet or drum
For our hearts and our arms are ready.
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Derry's Deathless Story
Behold the crimson banner float
O'er yonder turret hoary;
It tells of days of mighty note
And Derry's deathless story
When her brfave sons undaunted stood
Embattled to defend her,
Indignant stemmed oppressions flood
And sung outdone Surrender!"
Old Derry's walls were firm and strong
Well fenced in every quarter
Each frowning bastion grim along
With culverin and mortar:
But Derry had a surer guard
Than all that art could lend her:
Her 'Prentice hearts the gates who barr'd
And sung out"No Surrender!"
On came the foe, in bigot ire,
And fierce the assault was given,
By shot and shell, 'mid streams of fire,
Her fated roof was riven;
But baffled was the tyrant's wrath,
And vain his hopes to bend her,
For still, 'mid famine, fire and death,
And sung out-"No Surrender!"
Again when treason madden'd round,
And rebel hords were swarming,
Were Derry's sons the foremost found,
And forth they rush'd at honor's call,
From age to boyhood tender,
Again to man their virgin wall,
And sing out--"No Surrender!"
Long may the crimson banner wave,A meteor streaming airy,
Portentious of the free and brave,
Who guard the walls of Derry;
And Derry's sons alike defy
Pope, traitor or pretender
And peal to Heaven the 'Prentice cry
Their patriot--"No Surrender!"
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Battle of the Diamond
The battle of the Diamond!
Round,loyal, let it pass!
We'll drink it with a glowing soul,
And from a ruby glass!
Full let the rich red wind pour forth
its fountain and its flood,
In token that the loyal won
That battle with their blood.
The battle of the Diamond!
Far let the watchword fly,
When craven Papish rebels crouch'd
Upon the earth to die!
Slain by devoted men and true,
Who fought with he art and blade,
And strengthened in their ambush vile,
By swords they had betrayed
The battle of the Diamond!
We'll toast it well and wide.--
Shamed rebels! Let it rouse alike
Their passion and their pride!
And if the coward host again
Fling back the traitor's door,
We'll meet them and we'll battle them,
And vanquish as before
The battle of the Diamond!
A triumph song we sing!
We care not how the rebels roar,
Nor how the welkin ring;
The shout of Protestants shall swell,
Voice-borne from shore to shore;
And it shall be in Irela nd
A toast for evermore!
The battle of the Diamond!
A triumph song we sing;
Hurrah! We fought it for our faith!
We won it for our King!
Our King! Whom Papist fools denied,
To follow Priest and Pope;
But fallen, we left the m without life,
And living without hope.
The battle of the Diamond!
Again fill full the bowl!
And as more generous spirits rise ,
Let traitors shrink in soul!
Theirs was the net of the cowards cast
The prize too was their own,
Slaughter from good and gallant men
Who battled for the throne!
The battle of the Diamond!
And would they stay the toast?
We dare them with their Moloch power,
And with their millioned host!
Lo! At the shadow of a soul
The robbers quail beneath!
The battle of the Diamond
We drink it in their teeth!
The battle of the Diamond!
Again, and yet again
We waft it on the wings of wind
We won it on the plain!
And memory in the sacred shrine
Where those high deeds we hoard;
And what we gathered in the field
We cherish at the board.
The battle of the Diamond!
Ho! Rebels quake and start!
We fought it sound of loyalty;
We drink it sound of heart!
Let puny rebels fill with spite
Spite's a me assure o'er and o 'er
Still shall it be in Ireland
A toast for evermore.
The battle of the Diamond!
Round, loyal, let it pass;
We'll drink it with a glowing soul,
And from a ruby glass!
Full let the rich red wine pour forth
Its fountain and its fl ood,
In token that the l oyal w on,
That battle with their blood- Clonel Blacker.
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Old Father Dan
I once knew a dodger, whose name was Father Dan,
But to purgatory he's gone long ago
To atone for the sins he committed all for scran.
He is living with his Uncle Tom below
Chorus
Then square up your shovels in a row,
Tumble up the sods with the hoe, boys o;
There is no more rent for ould Father Dan
He's gone where the rest all will go.
Now ould Father Dan was the rarest ould sprig
That Ireland ever did see,
For most of his wit, och! It lay in his wig,
And he long kept the rent-box key,
Chorus
But, alas! Like all flesh, ould Father Dan did die
The big beggar-man is no more;
And the boys for the halfpence they've lost often sigh,
They swear they've been done o'er and o'er
Chorus
Though his head was as big as any timber block.
He was a fox, only he wanted the tail;
For the love of the boys he kept all their stock
But to purgaory one day he set sail
Chorus
Dan started for purgatory one cold winter's morn.
And the Bansheis rent the air with their woe;
For all the Repealers of the cash were shorn,
And Repeal with Dan sent down below,
Chorus
But the boys pray that Old Nick may claim his own,
When from purgatory Father Dan is cast;
And that with serpents he'll be left for the groan,
For the rent-box he long held so fast.
Chorus
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Sons, Whose sires with Wiliam Bled
air-"Scots Wha Hae"
Sons, whose sires with William bled,
Offspring of the mighty dead,
When the Popish tyrants fled,
And this fair land left free.
Yield not now to Popish guile,
trust them least when most they smile,
Sun the crafty fowler's toil,
And keep your liberty.
Loud and high their clamours rise
Of pretended miseries;
The Papish creed is only lies,
Which none but fools believe.
All the generous lion can,
That belongs of right to man
Britain puts within their span
And they ingrate receive
Now they whine as "bondsmen" poor;
Now they boast their millions o're
And forth the Popish rent they pour--
For pike and murder given.
Firm ye sons of Britain, firm
Shrink not from the gatherin' storm,
Let it come in any form
Our battle- word is --Heaven
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The Orange Plant
tune- "Rule Britannia"
When first from Eden's holy bowers
The fragrant breeze that fanned the seed
The Orange plant, Prince William's flower
Arose Britannia's noblest tree.
Arose Britannia's noblest tree,
Then hail to the Orange Prince William's tree,
And all Orange hearts beat three times three
The noblest king on England's throne
Has slept beneath its golden leaves;
O'er Holland's towers the beams have shown,
O'er Prussia's fields it proudly waves
O'er Prussia's fields it proudly waves
When other flowers pine and die,
It calmly sleeps in Erin's isle;
To bloom again in sweet July,
And fill our vales with gladdening smile,
And fill our vales with gladdening smile.
Each loyal bosom wears a branch,
It's an emblem of our nation's pride;
And when in times of deep distress,
It closed the roll of battle's tide.
It closed the roll of battle's tied
Long may its golden branches wave
It's shadows o'er the world wide;
Let no false traitor e'er deride.
Let no false traitor e'er deride.
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King
William's Day
The glorious day of Aughrim's field--
The day of chivalry-
We'll ne'er forget, when helm and shield
Were bless'd with victory!
Like wildfire flashed our engines, then
Red havoc spread dismay;
Up,rouse ye, then, my merry Orangemen
It is King William's day!
To blast the torch of Liberty.
Which our brave sires once fired.
False James--the slave of bigotry--
With Papist foes conspired.
But history's page tells where and when
We made them run away;
Up, rouse ye, then my merry Orangemen
It is King Wiliam's day!
Another Boyne may have its fray;
Another Aughrim rise;
Another Londonderry may
Show where its martyr lies
And should such scenes blaze forth again--
Stand close upon that day;
Up, rouse ye, then, my merry Orangemen
It is King William's day!
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Shutting of the Gates of Derry
tune-auld Lang Syne
Full many a long wild winter's night
And saultry summer's day
Are past and gone since James took flight
From Derry Walls away
Cold are the hands that closed that gate
Against the wily foe
But here to Time's remotest date,
Their spirit still shall glow;
So here's a health to all good men,
Now fearless friends are few.
But when we close our gates against
We'll then be all True Blue
Lord Antrim's men came down yon g len
With drums and trumpets gay
Our 'Prentice Boys just heard the noise
And then prepared for play;
While some opposed, the gates they closed,
And joining hand-in-hand
Before the wall resolved to fall
Or for their freedom stand,
When honor calls to Derry Walls,
The noble and the brave,
Oh! He that in the battle falls
Must find a hero's grave.
Then came the hot and doubtf ul fray,
With many a mortal wound;
While thousands in wild war's array,
Stood marshaled all around.
Each hill and plain was strewed with slain
The Foyle ran red with blood;
But all was vain the town to gain
Here William's standard stood.
Re nowned are they who face their foes
As men and heros should;
But let the slave steal to his grave
Who fears to shed his blood,
The matchless deeds of those who here
Defied the tyrant 's frown
On history's bright rolls appear
Emblazoned in renown:
Here deathless Walker's faithful word
Sent hosts against the foe
And gallant Murray's bloody sword
The Gallic chief laid low,
We honor those heroic dead,
Their glorious memory:
May we, who stand here in their stead
As wise and valliant be!
Oh! Sure a heart of stone would melt,
The scenes once here to see:
And witness all our fathers felt,
To make their country free
They saw the lovely matron's cheek
With want and terror pale
They heard the child's expiring shriek,
Float on the passing gale!
Yet here they stood in field of blood,
As battle raged aro und
Resolved to die till victory
Their purple standard crowned.
The sacred rights these heros gained
In many a hard-fought day
Shall they by us be still maintained
Or basely cast away?
Shall rebels vile rule o'er our isle,
And call it all their own?
Oh, surely no! The faithless foe
Must bend before the throne
Then here's a health to all good men ,
To all good men and true;
And when we close our gates again,
We'll then be all True Blue.
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Our Counrty 's Saviour
Oh! Had I old Timotheus' lyre,
So much renowned in story;
Or burned for me Appollo's fire,
I'd sing of William's glory:
From shore to shore his praises should ring,
No loyal heart could waver,
But throbbing beat while loud he'd sing,
Our laws and country's saviour.
July the first in ninety's year,
Just as the mountain's summit
The sun had slightly tinged with gold,
His hardy troops he summoned,
The bold attack he meant to make
'Twas Heaven's decree that he should be
Our laws' and country's saviour.
A ball came flying to the spot;
'Twas aimed for brave King William:
The fools! They might have spared their shot
No balls of thirs could harm him:
For a guardian angel near him stood
To shield him with his favour.
Preserved him for the public good-
Our laws.' And country's saviour.
He boldly crossed Boyne's silver flood.
While thundering guns did ratle;
The wondering world in silence stood.
Astonished at the battle.
"Come on," says he. "Be not dismayed,
From Heaven we'll meet with favor
I'd strive to earn the glorious name,
Our laws' and country's saviour
The contest firmly was maintained
By an unequal number;
The fields were covered o'er with slain--
Our cannons loud did thunder,
Which side would gain no one could say,
The victory seemed to waveer;
But William's courage won the day
Our laws' and country's saviour
Now fill your glasses, f ill them high,
To king and Constitution;
And low may every scoundrel lie
Who'd wish for revolution:
And humbly from high Heaven we'll beg.
This great--this lasting favour:--
That William's cause may never fail,--
Our laws' and country's saviour.
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The Men of Skinner's Alley *
When tyranny's detested power
Had leagued with superstition,
And bigot Jame, in evil hour,
Began his luckless mission--
Still here suvived the sacred flame,
Here freedom's sons did rally,
And consecrate to deathless fame
The men of Skinner's Alley.
When William came to set them free
From famine, fire and water,
And the first dawn of liberty
Had blushed on the Boyne water,
Then they did fill to glorious Will;
At such a toast who'd dally?
While liberty and loyalty
Exist in Skinner's Alley.
And here, through each revolving year,
The sacred f lame was cherished;
Though lost in factions's fearful fray,
It once had nearly perished.
Until our fathers' spirits rose--
While knaves stood shilly shally
Then did we sing "God Save the King."
We men of Skinner's Alley.
And oft may we repeat that toast
By festive draughts elated;
While loyalty, our prodest boast,
On every heart is seated.
For ne'er can we forget the King.
Round whom all virtues rally;
And our own William's name shall ring
Each night in Skinner's Alley.
__
*This was an organization simillar to the
Orange institutions. The Duke of Wellington
was a member
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Unless otherwise indicated songs are from either
( see ABC notation for citation:)
Lilliburlero!,Vol.2,The Ulster
Society,1988
or: The Orange Lark,Second Edition,The
Ulster Society,1987.
Or The Orange Sentenel
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Sources For the Music:
Following some songs is a rendering
of the tune in ABC format. This is a text based format which allows a program
to play the file via the internal speaker of the computer without the aid
of a soundcard. For more information about this program Go To:To
the ABC2WIN Program Page.
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