[Intro]
C F C G
[Verse 1]
C G C
In the County Tyrone, near the town of Dungannon,
Am G
Where many the ructions meself had a hand in.
C F C
Bob Williamson lived, a weaver by trade,
G C
And all of us thought him a stout Orange blade,
Em F
On the Twelfth of July as it yearly did come,
C G7
Bob played with his flute to the sound of a drum.
C F C
You may talk of your harp, your piano or lute,
G C
But none can compare with the Old Orange Flute.
[Verse 2]
C G C
Bob, the deceiver, he took us all in;
Am G
He married a Papist named Bridget McGinn.
C F C
Turned Papist himself and forsook the old cause
G C
That gave us our freedom, religion and laws.
Em F
Now, boys of the townland made some noise upon it,
C G7
And Bob had to fly to the province of Connaught.
C F C
He fled with his wife and his fixings to boot,
G C
And along with the latter his Old Orange Flute.
[Verse 3]
C G C
At the chapel on Sunday to atone for past deeds,
Am G
He'd say Pater and Aves and counted his brown beads.
C F C
'Til after some time, at the priest's own desire
G C
He went with that old flute to play in the choir.
Em F
He went with that old flute for to play for the Mass,
C G7
But the instrument shivered and sighed, oh, alas,
C F C
And try though he would, though it made a great noise,
G C
The flute would play only "The Protestant Boys."
[Verse 4]
C G C
Bob jumped and he stared and got in a flutter
Am G
And threw the old flute in the blessed holy water.
C F C
He thought that this charm would bring some other Sound;
G C
When he tried it again, it played "Croppies Lie Down."
Em F
Now, for all he could whistle and finger and blow,
C G7
To play Papish music he found it no go.
C F C
"Kick the Pope" and "The Boyne Water" it freely would Sound,
G C
But one Papish squeak in it couldn't be found.
[Verse 5]
C G C
At the council of priests that was held the next day
Am G
They decided to banish the old flute away.
C F C
They couldn't knock heresy out of it's head,
G C
So they bought Bob a new one to play in it's stead.
Em F
Now, the old flute was doomed, and its fate was pathetic
C G7
'Twas fastened and burned at the stake as a heretic.
C F C
As the flames soared around it, they heard a strange Noise;
G C
'Twas the old flute still whistling "The Protestant Boys."
[Outro]
F C
"Toora lu, toora lay,
G C
Oh, it's six miles from Bangor to Donnahadee."