Wake, sons of William, wake,
For God the thrones of kings doth shake;
Truth and freedom are at stake,
And dangers lurk around.
Hark! we hear
Sounds of fear,
That startle not the brave man's ear;
They seem to say
That Papal sway
May through this isle abound.
Wake, sons of William, wake,
For God the thrones of kings doth shake;
Truth and freedom are at stake,
And dangers lurk around.
Arise, one matchless band,
And, like your fathers, bravely stand,
For God, for Home, and Fatherland,
In all your proud array!
Truth doth shine,
With power divine,
On hearts that are religion's shrine.
Faith and love
Towered God above
Take earthly cares away.
Wake, sons of William, wake,
For God the thrones of kings doth shake;
Truth and freedom are at stake,
And dangers lurk around.
See how our rulers now
To Papal arts will bow;
And oh! shall we not vow
To shield our fathers fame?
They would bind
Heart and mind;
Soul and body bruise and grind!
And shall we
Such recreants be
As bear the wrong and shame?
Wake, sons of William, wake,
For God the thrones of kings doth shake;
Truth and freedom are at stake,
And dangers lurk around.
When Nassau to our aid
High wielded Freedom's blade;
Rome's hosts were prostrate laid,
By the great warrior King.
And shall we,
Bold and free,
Fear our stricken enemy?
No; for they
Who'd bear Rome's sway
Shall also feel her sting.
Wake, sons of William, wake,
For God the thrones of kings doth shake;
Truth and freedom are at stake,
And dangers lurk around.
What doubter still would pause
To maintain our Glorious cause?
Now, rise for Church and Laws,
And for our gracious Queen!
United, then,
Brave-hearted men,
You'll win Truth's victory once again;
And this your ide,
In Heaven's bright smile,
All glorious shall be seen.
Wake, sons of William, wake,
For God the thrones of kings doth shake;
Truth and freedom are at stake,
And dangers lurk around.
When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of the rover
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen-fifteen my country said, Son
It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be done
So they gave me a bayonet and gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the ship pulled away from the quay
Amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears
We sailed off to Gallipoli
And how well I remember that terrible day
Our blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he'd primed himself well
He chased us with bullets and rained us with shell
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again
Now those that were left well we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
While around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
I saw what it had done and I wished I was dead
Never knew there was worse things than dying
For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
To hump tent and pegs a man needs both legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me
So they collected the cripples, the wounded and maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The legless, the armless, the blind, and insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
Thank Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve, to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then they turned all their faces away
And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Renewing all dreams and past glories
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The tired old men from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, What are they marching for
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer the call
Year by year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me
Now their ghosts can be heard
As they pass by the billabong
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me
Waringsford Rising Star L.O.L No. 545
Come all you Orange Brethren, now listen and I'll sing,
In honour of those heroes, who are loyal to their King,
They love their rights and liberties, they gained them by the sword.
And the place those heroes hail from is known as Waringsford.
Although it is a village small in the West of County Down,
In the Parish of Garvaghy, three miles from Dromore Town -
Our Orange standard's planted there, the cause we will maintain,
Within our lovely Orange Hall in Warringsford Demesne.
I'm proud to be a member of that famous L.O.L.,
And 545's our number - that we all love so well,
We meet first Thursday of each month - we're known both near and far -
And the title we go under is Waringsford Rising Star.
On every night of meeting, with our Master in the chair,
The Lodge is always opened with scripture and with prayer,
The Brethren standing round - most cordially do join
In praising God who sent us King William to the Boyne.
And on the Twelfth day of July, when we march out so gay,
With our banners floating proudly on that historic day,
We make the lords of all the land come out and join the throng,
And celebrate that glorious day - when Right triumphed o'er wrong.
Ye noble sons of Ulster, be ready for the call,
To guard those Rights and Liberties we won on Derry's Walls,
Then raise your "No Surrender" cry - let it ring both loud and clear -
For as long as God is on our side no danger need we fear.
But keep King William's memory, our glorious Prince of yore,
Till the Archangel's trumpet sounds and time shall be no more,
And wear the Bible and the Crown, the Orange and the Blue,
For it was for these colours that King James' men we slew.
And when we pass through darkness to that bright heavenly land,
To meet our Grand Master, and there before Him stand,
To dwell forever with the Lord, and His praises to sing,
Along with our ancestors and William our great King.
The call came to our brave lads of Ulster,
To face the rebels take a stand,
And all our Scottish brethren had gathered,
To travel to our loyal land,
And in the distance we saw them marching,
The U.V.F to left and right,
And we all knew that they were our brothers,
They'd come to help us win the fight.
We were watching the heroes,
Cheering and singing along,
They were flying the colours,
Red,White and Blue in a throng,
As the drum rolled out a command,
We saluted Ulster's Red Hand,
Marching onwards to freedom,
Victory is ours.
Fathers and sons were standing together,
Hand and hand against the foe,
Ready to pledge their lives for their country,
The U.V.F was set to go,
The rebels didn't know what had hit them,
They lost their nerve and ran away,
But we stood firm and cried "No Surrender",
The U.V.F had won the day.
We were watching the heroes,
Cheering and singing along,
They were flying the colours,
Red,White and Blue in a throng,
As the drum rolled out a command,
We saluted Ulster's Red Hand,
Marching onwards to freedom,
Victory is ours.
We were watching the heroes,
Cheering and singing along,
They were flying the colours,
Red,White and Blue in a throng,
As the drum rolled out a command,
We saluted Ulster's Red Hand,
Marching onwards to freedom,
Victory is ours.
There's a wee spot in Europe its a place of great fame,
it lies to the north land and Ulster's its name,
it only has six counties but o what renown,
and it s emblem is the red hand topped by the queens crown.
now the Germans came over in the year of forty one,
and they tried to destroy us by bomb and by gun,
but our history could tell us of others who tried,
how our sons defended Ulster and they fought and died.
if a fenian should speak to you in his own fenian tongue,
they will speak of our friendships why we cant be one,
just you point to the red hand topped by the queens crown,
say were side by side with Britain and they wont let us down.
so now brothers and sisters let us join as one,
let us drink to our Ulster its heroes and its sons,
and while we are toasting two names we must join,
that of William of Orange, and the banks of the Boyne.
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.
Are you a loyal Orangeman and worthy of the name
Of William Prince of Orange, immortal honoured fame?
What is your daily practice, which is the part you play?
Do you respond to duties' call and tread the narrow way?
Was it through love and loyalty that you a stranger came
To cross the rugged mountains in search of Jordan's plain?
Where the waters stood divided and the chosen found a way
Was it to aid such principles you joined the grand array?
Was it for sake of earthly gain you joined the glorious throng
Of William Prince of Orange who conquered at the Boyne?
Do you accept the righteous robe that made all nations free
And care not for the principles that gained such liberty?
Do you uphold the principles for which our fathers died,
Or when the enemy is in view are you the one to hide?
Have you attained the golden steps, Faith, Hope, and Charity,
Or do you stand at Rome's command to lap and bend the knee?
These are simple questions, to each your answer give
The world will prove it's value by the life you try to live
If you're a would-be Orangeman then choose some other sect,
But if a worthy Orangeman you're one of the Elect.
Oh! Will you stand. Oh! Will you stand,
With the Ulster Volunteer Force as a Patriotic band,
Would you fight unto the death would you join the U.V.F,
If you can you're a man then you'll stand.
And when the sound of the Battle is over,
It's Shoulder to Shoulder we'll stand,
To remember the brave young Ulster soldiers,
Who fought for the flag of the Red Hand.
Oh! Will you stand. Oh! Will you stand,
Would you fight for God and Ulster And to keep it British Land,
With Rifle and Grenade would you serve the Old Brigade,
If you can you're a man then you'll stand.
And when the sound of the Battle is over,
It's Shoulder to Shoulder we'll stand,
To remember the brave young Ulster soldiers,
Who fought for the flag of the Red Hand.
Oh! Will you stand. Oh! Will you stand,
Would you bear and swear allegience To the Flag of the Red Hand,
Would you fight and never fear with the Ulster Volunteers,
If you can you're a man then you'll stand.
And when the sound of the Battle is over,
It's Shoulder to Shoulder we'll stand,
To remember the brave young Ulster soldiers,
Who fought for the flag of the Red Hand.
Oh! Will you stand. Oh! Will you stand,
Would you travel the road where the brave and bold must go,
Would you wear the black cockade, would you serve the Old Brigade,
If you can you're a man then you'll stand.
And when the sound of the Battle is over,
It's Shoulder to Shoulder we'll stand,
To remember the brave young Ulster soldiers,
Who fought for the flag of the Red Hand.
Proudly march on, to the edge of the river,
The Protestant hosts, on the Twelfth of July;
For William of Orange has come to deliver
From prison the captives apointed to die!
And brave men, with hope,
See the slaves of the pope
Assembled to fight for the minion of France,
The sun sheds his glory
On men famed in story,
Who longed for this hour, and the watchword "advance".
Onward they go, as the music is pealing,
The drums cease to beat as they enter the Boyne,
Onward they go, with a confidence sealing
The doom of the foe, here in battle they join,
For God is their trust,
And the victory must,
Assuredly fall to the hosts of the Lord,
For Him they are fighting
His foes they are smiting
And never fail they who for Him draw the sword.
William leads on, like a Protestant hero,
While James slinks away from the hill of Donore,
Frightened to death by that "Lilliburlero."
That cheers on the men on the opposite shore
And, if ever again
The thing is to do
That was done that July
With Orange flag flying,
And on god relying,
Such music shall lead men to conquer or die!
Ours is the victory! Praise be to Heaven!
The banner of Orange waves over the field!
The fetters James forged have by William been driven,
And never to tyrants shall Williamites yield!
For they will maintain
On the land and the main
Against Papal legions, the Right and the True,
And with life, shall never
Surrender, for ever,
Their standard of freedom The Orange and Blue!
And how do ye do young Willie McBride,
Do ye mind if i sit here down by yer graveside,
to rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun,
I've been walking all day boys am I nearly done,
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen,
when you joined the great fallen back in 1916,
well I hope you died well and I hope you died clean,
but young Willie McBride was it sad and obscene.
well did they beat the drum slowly,
did they play the fife lowly,
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
did the band play the last post of course,
or did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.
did ye leave a young wife or a sweetheart behind,
in some faithful heart is your memory enshrined,
although you died back there in 1916,
in that faithful heart you're forever nineteen,
or are you a stranger without even name,
enclosed and forgotten behind a glass frame,
in an old photograph, torn, battered n stained,
that's faded to yellow in a brown leather frame.
well did they beat the drum slowly,
did they play the fife lowly,
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
did the band play the last post of course,
or did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.
well the sun how it shines on those green fields of France,
and there's a warm summer breeze it makes the red poppies dance,
but look how the sun shines from under the clouds,
there's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no guns firing now,
but here in this graveyard sure its still no mans land,
where the countless white crosses lie new in the sand,
cos for mans blind indifference towards his fellow man,
sure a whole generation were butchered and damned.
well did they beat the drum slowly,
did they play the fife lowly,
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
did the band play the last post of course,
or , did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.
well young Willie McBride I cant stop wondering why,
do all those who lie here , know why did they die,
did they really believe, when they answered the call,
did they really believe ,that this war would end wars,
but they saw all the suffering, sure the glory, the pain,
sure the killing ,and the dying, was all done in vain,
for young Willie McBride it all happened again,
and again, and again, and again , and again.
well did they beat the drum slowly,
did they play the fife lowly,
did they sound the death march as they lowered you down,
did the band play the last post of course,
or did the pipes play the flowers of the forest.
where are you now private William McBride.
