I took back my hand and I showed him the door
No dollar of mine would I part with this day
For fuelling the engine of a bloody cruel war
In my forefathers' home far away.
Who fled the first Famine wearing all that they owned
Were called Navigators, all ragged and torn
And built the Grand Trunk here and found a new home
Wherever their children were born.
Their sons have no politics, none can recall
Allegiance from long generations before
Oh, this war or that name can't matter at all
Or be cause enough for to war.
And meanwhile my babies lie safe in their homes
Unlike their Pale cousins who cower and cry
While kneecappers nail their poor Dads to the floor
And teach them to hate and to die.
It's those cruel beggars who spurn the fair coin
The Peace for their kids they could take at their will
Since the day old King Billy prevailed at the Boyne
They've bombed and they've maimed and they've killed.
Now they cry out for money and wail at the door
But Home Rule or Republic, 'tis all of it shame
And a curse for us here who want nothing of war
We're kindred in nothing but name.
All rights and all wrongs have long since blown away
For causes are ashes where children lie slain
Yet the damned UDL and the cruel IRA
Will tomorrow go murdering again.
But no penny of mine will I add to the fray
"Remember The Boyne" they will cry out in vain
For I've given my heart to the place I was born
And forgiven the whole House of Orange,
King Billy and the whole House of Orange.
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