I often wonder where they would have been
If we hadn't have taken them in
Fed them and washed them
Thousands in Glasgow alone
From Ireland they came
Brought us nothing but trouble and shame
Well the famine is over
Why don't they go home?
Now Athenry Mike was a thief
And Large John he was fully briefed
And that wee traitor from Castlemilk
Turned his back on his own
They've all their Papists in Rome
They have U2 and Bono
Well the famine is over
Why don't they go home?
"Ahh, the green fields of Ireland
The Emerald Isle
The land the Tim’s love so much
The potatoes are plentiful there now, you know
You can roast them
You can cream them
You can stick them up your arse, for all I care
For if you love the land so much
Why don’t you go home?"
Now they raped and fondled their kids
That's what those perverts from the darkside did
And they swept it under the carpet
and Large John he hid
Their evils seeds have been sown
Cause they're not of our own
Well the famine is over
Why don't you go home?
Now Timmy don't take it from me
Cause if you know your history
You've persecuted thousands of people
In Ireland alone
You turned on the lights
Fuelled U boats by night
That's how you repay us
It's time to go home.
Said a father to his son,
"Oh my boy the time has come",
Your country it is calling unto thee,
For those rebels once again,
To unite us is their aim,
And together we must stand to keep her free.
Remember, our fathers brave and bold,
As they fought for Ulsters cause in far off lands,
Oh my father said to me "I must join the Y.C.V",
With a rifle or a pistol in my hand.
From Belfast to Armagh,
Carade to old Crossgar,
From Ballymena to old Omagh town,
With their standards flying high,
As it was in days gone by,
We will rally round the flag for liberty.
Remember, our fathers brave and bold,
As they fought for Ulsters cause in far off lands,
Oh my father said to me "I must join the Y.C.V",
With a rifle or a pistol in my hand.
Come all you Volunteers,
Let us fight and never fear,
Just like our fathers did so long ago,
Though i'm sixteen years of age,
In the Volunteers i'll engage,
Like our fathers did so many years ago.
Remember, our fathers brave and bold,
As they fought for Ulsters cause in far off lands,
Oh my father said to me "I must join the Y.C.V",
With a rifle or a pistol in my hand.
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.
A soldier boy was leaving,
his sweetheart one fine day,
with sad farewells and broken hearts,
he wiped her tears aways.
she pinned to him a Lily,
as he kissed his love goodbye,
the flower of dear old Ulster,
that will never wither n die.
across the seas he travelled,
to a land so far away,
where generations of loyal hearts,
were sacrificed that day.
he took with him a Lily,
when he kissed his love goodbye,
the flower of dear old Ulster,
that will never wither n die.
It was only an Orange Lily,
she pinned upon his breast,
On a cold and early July morn,
they laid him down to rest,
now the only flowers that bloom,
in the poppy fields so red,
Is the Orange Lily of Ulster,
that will flower over his head.
Now she sits n dreams her memories,
for her love has never died,
and time will grant her wishes,
and take her to his side,
and through the years she treasured,
the day they said goodbye,
she whispered "take my love with you,
it will never wither n die".
It was only an Orange Lily,
she pinned upon his breast,
On a cold and early July morn,
they laid him down to rest,
now the only flowers that bloom,
in the poppy fields so red,
Is the Orange Lily of Ulster,
that will flower over his head.
As we stand today, neath skies so grey,
feel the wind all around blow cold,
to remember those, we hold close,
for thier story is seldom told.
Brave young men, who gave thier all,
and stood firm throughout the years.
Brave young men, one and all,
the Fourstep Volunteers.
These men they do thier duty,
with courage in thier heart.
No compromise shown to the foe,
who've torn this land apart.
For this union they hold dearly,
that flag they'll fight to save.
for free men they would rather die,
than be a free state slave.
Brave young men, who gave thier all,
and stood firm throughout the years.
Brave young men, one and all,
the Fourstep Volunteers.
So search deep within your soul,
for that spirit burning bright.
One day that spirit shall arise,
to tell the world we're right.
To take up arms, defend this land,
defend our noble cause.
Our culture and our heritage,
our freedom and our laws.
Brave young men, who gave thier all,
and stood firm throughout the years.
Brave young men, one and all,
the Fourstep Volunteers.
So when you feel that shiver boys,
running up your spine,
It's just the men who've gone before,
Standing by your side.
For now we're all together,
so proudly raise your heads,
for the wind that blows around you boys,
the Battalion of our dead.
Brave young men, who gave thier all,
and stood firm throughout the years.
Brave young men, one and all,
C Company Volunteers.
From the Shankill to the Somme
At the age of sixteen years, well he left his home in tears,
His mother watched as he walked out the door,
And as his family bade farewell, and his neighbours wished him well,
From the road his dad and brother took before.
And as the ship set sail for France, he gave Belfast one more glance,
As the ship began to move away from shore,
He could see there on the land, the proud YCV flute band,
And he could hear them play The Sash My Father Wore.
Oh, from the Shankill Road they went,
Oh, thier young lives to be spent,
On the first day of July so long Ago,
And for the deeds that they have done,
And the glories they have won,
We remember as long as the bright red poppy's grow.
When they charged fom Thiepval wood,
They were in a fighting mood,
As they made thier way across the fields of fire,
And as they stormed the great redoubt,
You could hear those brave men shout,
To have them lie beneath the twisted shells and wire
Oh, from the Shankill Road they went,
Oh, thier young lives to be spent,
On the first day of July so long Ago,
And for the deeds that they have done,
And the glories they have won,
We remember as long as the bright red poppy's grow.
As the ship set sail for France, he gave Belfast one more glance,
As the ship began to move away from shore,
He could see there on the land, the proud YCV flute band,
And he could hear them play The Sash My Father Wore.
And from the Shankill Road they went,
Oh, thier young lives to be spent,
On the first day of July so long Ago,
And for the deeds that they have done,
And the glories they have won,
We remember as long as the bright red poppy's grow.
Yet from the Shankill Road they went,
Oh, thier young lives to be spent,
On the first day of July so long Ago,
And for the deeds that they have done,
And the glories they have won,
We remember as long as the bright red poppy's grow.
We remember as long as the bright red poppy's grow.
We remember as long as the bright red poppy's grow.
