The Killigans - The Old Orange Flute Lyrics
In the county Tyrone, near the town of DungannonThere was many a ruckshon that meself had a hand inBob Williamson lived there, a weaver by tradeAnd all of us thought him a stout-hearted blade.On the twelfth of July as it yearly did comeBob played of his old flute to the sound of the drumYou can talk of your harp, your piano or luteBut nothing compared with me Old Orange Flute.Toora loo, toora lay, oh it’s six miles from Bangor to Donaghadee.But Bob the deceiver sure he took us all inAnd he married a Papist named Bridget McGinnTurned Papish himself and forsook the old causeThat gave us our freedom, religion and laws.Now the boys in the place made some comment upon it,And Bob had to flee to the province of Connaught;He fled with his wife and his fixins, to boot,And along with the latter went the Old Orange Flute.At the council of priests that was held the next dayThey decided to banish the Old Flute away;They couldn’t knock heresy out of its headSo they bought Bob a new one to play in its stead.Now the Old Flute was doomed, and its fate was pathetic‘Twas fastened and burnt at the stake as heretic.As the flames roared around it, you could hear a queer noise‘Twas the Old Flute still playing “The Protestant Boys”.
