I had a friend called Trevor King a lot of people new his name, And a friend to all was he, A volunteer right from the start, He fought for Ulster with all his heart, Just to keep his province free, I wont forget the day that he died, I wont forget the look in his eye, Or these words that he said to me.
All gave some, Some gave all, Some came through for the red white and blue, Some had to fall, So if you ever think of me, Think of all your liberties, and recall, That some gave all.
Trevor King is no longer hee, but his words ring oh so clear, And they travel, across our land, For his friends he gave his all, stood his ground and took the fall Just to help his fellow man, So love your country and live it proud, And dont forget all those men who died, My people can you see.
All gave some, Some gave all, Some came through for the red white and blue, Some had to fall, So if you ever think of me, Think of all your liberties, and recall, That some gave all.
In a station in the city a British soldier stood Talking to the people there if the people would Some just stared in hatred, and others turned in pain And the lonely British soldier wished he was back home again
Come join the British Army! said the posters in his town See the world and have your fun come serve before the Crown The jobs were hard to come by and he could not face the dole So he took his country's shilling and enlisted on the roll
For there was no fear of fighting, the Empire long was lost Just ten years in the army getting paid for being bossed Then leave a man experienced a man who's made the grade A medal and a pension some mem'ries and a trade
Then came the call to Ireland as the call had come before Another bloody chapter in an endless civil war The priests they stood on both sides the priests they stood behind Another fight in Jesus' name the blind against the blind
The soldier stood between them, between the whistling stones And then the broken bottles that led to broken bones The petrol bombs that burnt his hands the nails that pierced his skin And wished that he had stayed at home surrounded by his kin
The station filled with people the soldier soon was bored But better in the station than where the people warred The room filled up with mothers with daughters and with sons Who stared with itchy fingers at the soldier and his guns
A yell of fear a screech of brakes the shattering of glass The window of the station broke to let the package pass A scream came from the mothers as they ran towards the door Dragging children crying from the bomb upon the floor
The soldier stood and could not move his gun he could not use He knew the bomb had seconds and not minutes on the fuse He could not run to pick it up and throw it in the street There were far too many people there too many running feet
Take cover! yelled the soldier, Take cover for your lives And the Irishmen threw down their young and stood before their wives They turned towards the soldier their eyes alive with fear For God's sake save our children or they'll end their short lives here
The soldier moved towards the bomb his stomach like a stone Why was this his battle God why was he alone He lay down on the package and he murmured one farewell To those at home in England to those he loved so well
He saw the sights of summer felt the wind upon his brow The young girls in the city parks how precious were they now The soaring of the swallow the beauty of the swan The music of the turning earth so soon would it be gone
A muffled soft explosion and the room began to quake The soldier blown across the floor his blood a crimson lake They never heard him cry or shout, they never heard him moan And they turned their children's faces from the blood and from the bones
The crowd outside soon gathered and the ambulances came To carry off the body of a pawn lost in the game And the crowd they clapped and cheered and they sang their rebel songs One soldier less to interfere where he did not belong
And will the children growing up learn at their mothers' knees The story of the soldier who bought their liberty Who used his youthful body as a means towards an end Who gave his life to those who called him murderer not friend
Full many a long wild winter's night And sultry 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 glen 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 honour 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 doubtful 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.
Renowned 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 historys 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 around Resolved to die till victory Their purple standard crowned. The sacred rights these heroes 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.
This stories famous to all Ireland, if you listen i'll tell you it all, Of the brave men who brought the Clyde Valley to Larne, In answer to Lord Carson's call, They landed more rifles, those gunrunning lads, At Bangor and Donaghadee, Their cause it was true, for me and for you, In their fight to keep Ulster free.
Proudly they laughed and they cheered as they gathered, Waiting for rifles to fight for their cause, They knew their fight was a flight with Ulster's blessing, They never flinched though they marched straight into the war.
They came up from Cavan and County Tyrone, Fermanagh and Monaghan too, And from Donegal, they heard Carson's call, From Antrim staunch hearts proud and true, From Down Armagh, Londonderry as well, United they all gathered there, For they were determined, that they would stay free, Or die for their Ulster so fair.
Proudly they laughed and they cheered as they gathered, Waiting for rifles to fight for their cause, They knew their fight was a flight with Ulster's blessing, They never flinched though they marched straight into the war.
Proudly they laughed and they cheered as they gathered, Waiting for rifles to fight for their cause, They knew their fight was a flight with Ulster's blessing, They never flinched though they marched straight into the war.
I have been a wanderer all my life, I'll roam this time no more But now I'm sailing back again, back to old Ulster's shores To settle down in Belfast town in a place that you all know Sure it fills my heart with gladness when I think of Sandy Row.
When I recall my childhood days, a tear comes to my eye I think of all the brethren on the 12th day of July For the music of the bands that day, it sets my heart a glow As we marched along together down the streets of Sandy Row.
Now whenever I have settled down, I never more will roam Away from dear old Ulster, for it is my home sweet home I'll get myself a little house, my children there will grow With all my loyal brethren in the streets of Sandy Row.
And now my song is finished and my head I will lay down I am proud that I am loyal to the Red Hand and the Crown The people that will meet me now, for off this ship I go Will be the people that I love, who live in Sandy Row
Drink to the memory of the brave, the fearless and the few, Some lie far of beneath the waves, some sleep in Ulster too, Though all are gone their fame lives on, the names of those who died, And proud and true these men like you remember them with pride.
So come listen to my story now of a brave young Ulster man, Whose life was cruelly taken by a rebel's murdering hand, He's a man that we will remember, and a friend for evermore, In memory of a volunteer one Robert "Squeak" Seymore.
Let those of you who tremble, let those of you who fear, The avenging hand of Ulster, it will find you far or near, And one night while you are sleeping, the hand upon the door, Will be the hand of an Ulster volunteer, one Robert "Squeak" Seymore.
You may think my story finished now, you may think my story told, And the man that i have spoke of, he lies in the ground so cold, But no he is always with us, he is here with us today, For the truth is Robert Seymore he will never fade away.
Let us pledge not to forget him and remember evermore, That here, Here Lies a Soldier, One Robert "Squeak" Seymore.
For i am a Red Hand Soldier, and there's no one any bolder, Than the boys wear the berets, and a coat of royal blue, We fear not any rebel, priests, soldiers or sinn fieners, We're the boys who're in the column, when there's fighting to be done.
Now some are from the Shankill, and some are from the village, But some are out of Antrim, in the hills of County Down, But wether your a westman, a north, south or eastman, It doesn't really matter, when you wear the red hand crown.
We'll have those rebels trembling, when they see our boys assembling, We'll have them all a running, to the echoes of our guns, We'll take on Dave O'Connell, and his corny rebel army, For what the hell do we care, for a thousand fenian scum.
Now some are from the Shankill, and some are from the village, But some are out of Antrim, in the hills of County Down, But wether your a westman, a north, south or eastman, It doesn't really matter, when you wear the red hand crown.
Well our country is a calling, from the men to bring her dawn in, To strike a blow for freedom, and a land to call our own, And stand shoulder to shoulder, you'll find the Red Hand Soldier, His country and his people, to be free for ever more.
Now some are from the Shankill, and some are from the village, But some are out of Antrim, in the hills of County Down, But wether your a westman, a north, south or eastman, It doesn't really matter, when you wear the red hand crown, It doesn't really matter, when you wear the red hand crown.
The Protestant Boys are Loyal and True, Stout-hearted in battle and stout-handed too; The Protestant Boys are true to the last, And faithful and peaceful when danger has passed. And oh! they bear And proudly wear The colours that floated o'er many a fray, Where cannons were flashing And sabres were clashing, And Protestant boys still carried the day.
When James half a bigot, and more of a knave, With masses and Frenchmen and land would enslave; The Protestant boys for liberty drew And showed with the Orange their Banner of Blue. And Derry well Their might can tell, Who first in their ranks did the Orange display; The Boyne had no shyers, And Aughrim no flyers, And Protestant boys still carried the day.
When treason was rampant and traitors were strong, And law was defied by a vile rebel throng, When thousands were banded the throne to cast down, The Protestants rallied and stood by the Crown. And oft in fight, By day and night, They 'countered the rebels in many a fray, Where red pikes were bristling, And bullets were whistling, And Protestant boys still carried the day.
And still does the fame of their glory remain, Unclouded by age and undimmed by a stain; And ever and ever their cause we'll uphold - The cause of the true and the trusted and bold. And scorn to yield, Or quit the field, While over our heads the old colours play, And traitors shall tremble Whene'er we assemble, For Protestant boys shall carry the day.
The Protestant boys are loyal and true, Though fashions are changed and the loyal are few, The Protestant boys are true to the last, Though cowards belie them when danger has past. Aye! still we stand, A loyal band, And reck not the liars whatever they say; For let the drums rattle The summons to battle, The Protestant boys must carry the day.
The price we've paid to gain some peace To make the bombs and killings cease The price we've paid with blood and tears Defending Ulster all these years.
The price that means we've had to bear An IRA man for Lord Mayor The price that let our enemy install The foeighn flag on City Hall.
The price for entering into talks Is banned parades and Orange walks The price that strengthened Sinn Fein's hand That made the RUC disband.
The price may prove to be too high The peace process could be another lie The price that we could sadly pay Could see the end of our UK.
In sixteen hundred and forty one those fenians formed a plan To massacre us Protestants down by the River Bann To massacre us Protestants and not to spare a man But to drive us down like a heard of swine into the River Bann
Brave Porter fell a victim, because he did intend To help his brother Protestants heir lives for to defend The blood did stain the waters red, their bones lay all around As they drove them down into the Bann that flows Through Portadown
A lady living in Loughgall and with her children five She begged for the sake of them to let her be alive That she might go to England her husband there to see And to live in peace and unity and far from Popery
But O they would not hear her cry, they placed her on the ground And after having tortured her the six of them they bound They said you are a heretic, the Pope you do defy And its from this bridge in Portadown this day your doom to die.
And after having tortured her to a pain she could not stand Down through the streets of Portadown they dragged her to the Bann OShane appointed as her guard to guide her on her way And the thought of five young children was leading her astray
At least the hundred faithful souls in Portadown were slain All were the deeds of Popery their wicked words to gain But god sent down brave Cromwell our Deliverer to be And he put down Popery in this land us Protestants set free
King William soon came after him and planted at the Boyne An Orange Tree there that we should bear in mind How Popery did murder us Protestants did drown The bones of some can still be seen this day in Portadown.
They fought and some died for their homeland They fought and some died now it’s our land Look at his little child, there’s no fear in her eyes Could he not show respect for other dads who have died?
Take two minutes, would you mind? It’s a pittance of time For the boys and the girls who went over In peace may they rest, may we never forget why they died. It’s a pittance of time
God forgive me for wanting to strike him Give me strength so as not to be like him My heart pounds in my breast, fingers pressed to my lips My throat wants to bawl out, my tongue barely resists
But two minutes I will bide It’s a pittance of time For the boys and the girls who went over In peace may they rest, may we never forget why they died. It’s a pittance of time
Read the letters and poems of the heroes at home They have casualties, battles, and fears of their own There’s a price to be paid if you go, if you stay Peace is fought for and won in numerous ways
Take two minutes would you mind? It’s a pittance of time For the boys and the girls all over May we never forget our young become vets At the end of the line it’s a pittance of time
It takes courage to fight in your own war It takes courage to fight someone else’s war Our peacekeepers tell of their own living hell They bring hope to foreign lands that the hatemongers can’t kill.
Take two minutes, would you mind? It’s a pittance of time For the boys and the girls who go over In peacetime our best still don battle dress And lay their lives on the line. It’s a pittance of time
In Peace may they rest, lest we forget why they died. Take a pittance of time
I Know a road, a little place, Known far and wide, with the highest praise, Down by the shops, where the whole world goes, Where the good prods flock, on the Shankill Road.
We're proud to be, Red, White and Blue, No other colours, will ever do, Down that sweet spot, where freedom goes, Down by the gods gate, on the Shankill Road.
Take heed with us, lift bomb and gun, those IRA SCUM, But the roar cried out, you'll not murder me, For i was born, to be always free.
We're proud to be, Red, White and Blue, No other colours, will ever do, Down that sweet spot, where freedom goes, Down by the gods gate, on the Shankill Road.
So wander down, tween 12 and 1, We watch the vermin, what they have done, To see the spirit, that we all know, Oh thank god, for the Shankill Road.
We're proud to be, Red, White and Blue, No other colours, will ever do, Down that sweet spot, where freedom goes, Down by the gods gate, on the Shankill Road.
So wander down, tween 12 and 1, We watch the vermin, what they have done, To see the spirit, that we all know, Oh thank god, for the Shankill Road. Oh thank god, for the Shankill Road.
If ever you come over to the East end of the town, You'll meet some loyal people there who'll never let you down, Prepare to fight for Ulster for the Queen and for the crown, Their the people of East Belfast.
Glory Glory Hallelujah, They will tell the story to ya, Glory Glory Hallelujah, Their the people of East Belfast.
There's Shankill Road and Sandy Row and Newtonards Road too, And many other loyal places, that are staunch and true, We all will be united, and our pledges we'll renew, To the people of East Belfast.
Glory Glory Hallelujah, They will tell the story to ya, Glory Glory Hallelujah, Their the people of East Belfast.
The fight for Ulster's on now, be ready for the fray, We'll keep our standerds flying high, for we will win the day, And side by side with vangaurd, UVF and UDA, Will be the people of East Belfast.
Glory Glory Hallelujah, They will tell the story to ya, Glory Glory Hallelujah, Their the people of East Belfast.
Glory Glory Hallelujah, They will tell the story to ya, Glory Glory Hallelujah, Their the people of East Belfast.
A light shown in the night some way ahead, blue turned into green then it was red And stirring the night love music played the light I saw in the night was a penny arcade
Step up and play each machine seemed to say, as I walked round and round the penny arcade Just ring the bell on the big bagatelle and youll make all those colored lights cascade And music played at the penny arcade, yes it played and it played, played all the time Roll up and spend your last dime
At first I thought it a dream that I was in, lost, lost in a sea of glass and tin But no, so dipping my hand in the back of my jeans I grabbed a handful of coins to feed the machine
Step up and play each machine seemed to say, as I walked round and round the penny arcade Just ring the bell on the big bagatelle and youll make all those colored lights cascade And music played at the penny arcade, yes it played and it played, played all the time Roll up and spend your last dime
And music played at the penny arcade, yes it played and it played, played all the time Roll up and spend your last dime
So, step up and play each machine seemed to say, as I walked round and round the penny arcade Just ring the bell on the big bagatelle and youll make all those colored lights cascade And music played at the penny arcade, yes it played and it played, played all the time Roll up and spend your last dime
Step up and play each machine seemed to say, as I walked round and round the penny arcade Just ring the bell on the big bagatelle and youll make all those colored lights cascade And music played at the penny arcade, yes it played and it played, played all the time Roll up and spend your last dime
When Brethren are met in their Orders so grand, What a beautiful sight for to view. I was ordered to stand, by a brother's command, To receive the bright Orange and Blue. To receive the bright Orange and Blue.
In darkness I entered, the Lord He knows where, First bound me in chains it is true; My shoes from my feet I did then cast away, To receive the bright Orange and Blue.
A rumbling noise just like thunder I heard, Presented itself to my view, You would stand with amazement to see them proclaim, To receive the bright Orange and Blue.
A glittering light unto me was revealed, I became a fresh soul, quite anew; I'll stand by my cause, my religion, and laws, I'll die by the Orange and Blue.
What a shameful disgrace on a Lodge it doth bring, To see brethren each other subdue; When hatred and envy profession pursue, Then they fly from the Orange and Blue.
Let us join heart and hand, and like William stand, In defending a cause just and true; Let the Boyne be our guide, as our forefathers died In defence of the Orange and Blue.
In the county Tyrone, in the town of Dungannon Where many a ruckus meself had a hand in Bob Williamson lived there, a weaver by trade And all of us thought him a stout-hearted blade.
On the twelfth of July as it yearly did come Bob played on the flute to the sound of the drum You can talk of your fiddles, your harp or your flute But there''s nothing could sound like the Old Orange Flute.
But the treacherous scoundrel, he took us all in For he married a Papist named Bridget McGinn Turned Papish himself and forsook the Old Cause That gave us our freedom, religion and laws.
And the boys in the county made such a stir on it They forced Bob to flee to the province of Connaught, Took with him his wife and his fixins, to boot, And along with the rest went the Old Orange Flute.
Each Sunday at mass, to atone for past deeds, Bob said Paters and Aves and counted his beads Till one Sunday morn, at the priest''s own require Bob went for to play with the flutes in the choir.
He went for to play with the flutes in the mass But the instrument quivered and cried."O Alas!" And blow as he would, though he made a great noise, The flute would play only "The Protestant Boys".
Bob jumped up and huffed, and was all in a flutter. He pitched the old flute in the best holy water, He thought that this charm would bring some other sound, When he tried it again, it played "Croppies Lie Down!"
And for all he would finger and twiddle and blow For to play Papish music, the flute would not go, "Kick the Pope" to "Boyne Water" was all it would sound Not one Papish bleat in it could e'er be found.
At a council of priests that was held the next day They decided to banish the Old Flute away, They couldn''t knock heresy out of its head So they bought Bob another to play in its stead.
And the Old Flute was doomed, and its fate was pathetic ''Twas fastened and burnt at the stake as heretic. As the flames rose around it, you could hear a strange noise ''Twas the Old Flute still a-whistlin'' "The Protestant Boys".
Over many years of conflict through loss and hurt and pain, From every part of Ulster to the Shankills narrow lanes, No braver men you'll care to meet through out this loyal land, Than the men of No.4 Platoon who serve the old red hand.
We salute these gallant heroes the bravest of the brave, We thank you for our way of life and this land you helped to save, In the fight against our enemys you never let us down, We thank the men of no.4 Platoon who serve our Queen and Crown.
Thier forever at the ready, forever standing strong, Always watching over us to undo any wrong, The pride of our six county's, their loyal to the core, The fighting men, men who wear the black and serve with no. 4.
This peace that we enjoy now you earned with battles won, A place in Ulsters history for the deeds that you have done, So to these loyal soldiers no one could ask for more, We raise our glass and thanks we give to the men of No. 4.
I'll remember I'll try, it was nearly July, As we walked down the road I'll remember the year, There was me, there was Sam, Jimmy Sloan and McCann, Would enlist in the Volunteers.
And the man says to me, 'Boy I hope you will see, 'And remember this day all the things you've been taught', It could be now or then, but we'll fight once again, For the things that our grandfathers fought.
And I swore like the rest to the badge on my breast, To the gun in my hand I will fight for my land, With my hand held high I took that vow , And I joined Number One Platoon.
And deep down inside my heart fills with pride, I remember the men who have fought through the years, I could name quite a few but to me and to you, They were Ulster Volunteers.
And to all here today just some words I must say, To remember this day, All the things you've been taught, It could be now or then, but we'll fight once again , For the things that our grandfathers fought.
And I swore like the rest to the badge on my breast, To the gun in my hand I will fight for my land, With my hand held high I took that vow, And I joined Number One Platoon
Today we meet a civic band In proud congratulation To celebrate the gallant stand Which saved our faith and nation No recreant fear shall hush the cheer Which waks us to remember The closing gate and boyish feat Of glorious old December.
Then raise the cheer to freemen dear And toast each brave defender For nought imparts to Derry hearts A thrill like No surrender.
Brave hearts they stuck the rallying blow For each loved home and altar Nor traitor friend nor bigot foe Their plighted faith could falter Old Walker's zeal and Murray's steel Came in their need to cheer them And sallies great from open gate Soon taught their foe to fear them.
Then raise the cheer to freemen dear And toast each brave defender For nought imparts to Derry hearts A thrill like No surrender.
Gainst Mighty odds they held their wall Through plague and grim starvation Combined to cause their city's fall And crush the hapless nation True to their trust no craven durst E'en breathe the word SURRENDER For gathering ill but nerved the will Of each resolved Defender!
Then raise the cheer to freemen dear And toast each brave defender For nought imparts to Derry hearts A thrill like No surrender.
Till townward on Foyle's rising tide Brave Browning's vessel bounded A shock-a crash-a belched broadside And victory's note has sounded Then banded here, from year to year We'll cherish the proud story Come weal or woe no plotting foe Shall rob us of our glory!
Then raise the cheer to freemen dear And toast each brave defender For nought imparts to Derry hearts A thrill like No surrender.
Come all you men who gather here and listen to my plea, Come fight for God and Ulster and maintain her liberty, Come join the men from Armagh, and give a mighty cheer, They're the men who do the business, the Mid-Ulster Volunteers.
So get up on your eet and follow me and join these men today, These men who'll do their duty and destroy the I.R.A, Come and join these brave young men, These men they are the best, For the men who do the business, The Mid-Ulster U.V.F.
Through the years these men have fought and served against the 'Ra, These men who fight for Ulster from the county of Armagh, United by the conflict, United by their fears, They're the men who do the business, The Mid-Ulster Volunteers.
So get up on your eet and follow me and join these men today, These men who'll do their duty and destroy the I.R.A, Come and join these brave young men, These men they are the best, For the men who do the business, The Mid-Ulster U.V.F.
You can talk about your ceasfire, you can talk about your peace, You can talk about de-commissioning arms until you're blue in the face, You can talk about anything you want, but the talk down through the years, Are the men who do the business, The Mid-Ulster Volunteers.
So get up on your eet and follow me and join these men today, These men who'll do their duty and destroy the I.R.A, Come and join these brave young men, These men they are the best, For the men who do the business, The Mid-Ulster U.V.F.
On a cold winters morning, On a bus bound for Milltown, There sat Michael Stone armed with hand grenades and guns, With a smile as sleakit as a snake my friend and a Duffell coat to his knees, He sat in the chapel with Gerry and Martin and listened to thier hail mary's.
Well he walked into the cemetary and hs spoke to the guards again, They just waved and winked at him, As he walked on by, And he stood in the crowds with all the people, as if he was one of thier own, But as soon as they started talkin in Irish Micheal began to throw.
Well he knew when to hold them, Knew when to throw them, Knew when to run, But he never he just walked away, And the fenians started chasing him, There was twenty dozen more, Michael stopped, Had a wee look, And threw a couple more.
Well he knew when to hold them, Knew when to throw them, Knew when to run, But he never he just walked away, And the fenians started chasing him, There was no hedges or alley's, But it was Michael 3 - Milltown 0, Chucky your bollocks.
Well he knew when to hold them, Knew when to throw them, Knew when to run, But he never he just walked away, And the fenians started chasing him, There was no hedges or alley's, But it was Michael 3 - Milltown 0, Chucky your bollocks.
'Twas a cold and grey November morn, as I left Belfast town, In a cold and lonely prison van, for Long Kesh I was bound, 'Cause my spirit was unbroken and my heart was still un-found, Why, I knew that i'd soon be with the men behind the wire.
When the judge had passed my sentence and the warder took me down, I cried out no surrender bless the red hand and the crown, But grant me just one favour, that is my one desire, Please let me serve my sentence with the men behind the wire.
There were many things so strange to me and many more I knew, His only cry was Loyalty to the old red white and blue, And the love for dear old Ulster, Even in the darkest hour, He'd shine with them these loyal men, the men behind the wire.
And when this war is over and our victory is won, Let us not forget the sacrifice made by these loyal sons, They were staunch and true for me and you so lift your glasses higher, Where would we have been without them, the men behind the wire.
50 men went to Longkesh, 9 long months ago, They'd just been loyal, in fighting our foe, But we won't forget them, We'll fight to the death, To release our comrades, in the U.V.F, Remember the loyalist prisoners, in this year of '74.
Their wives and their children, are suffering the most, Good luck to them all, comfort them in their loss, Remember dead heroes, and comfort their wives, Look after their children, and please be their guide, Remember the loyalist prisoners, in this year of '74.
Remember their mothers and fathers as well, For they raised great heroes, who had served us so well, Oh so brothers and sisters, who've takentheir stand, To fight off the evil on Ulster's fair land, Remember the loyalist prisoners, in this year of '74.
I am a loyal protestant from Belfast town I come A story I will tell to you about these rebel scum They've tried for many year with gun and bomb to wear us down
But we always will be faithful to the Red Hand and the Crown Whenever I was just a child upon my mothers knee
She taught me told me I must always fight to keep my liberty The words and memory still come back right to this very day For freedom now is threatened by the rebel IRA And when at last these evil men have been brought to their knees
We'll drink a toast to Ulster and her loyal 6 counties And to all Loyalist prisoners, gods blessing on them be to all those loyal brethren grateful thanks from you and me.
Mon Nov 01, 2010 2:34 pm
