Old Orange Flute lyrics and chords

You can sing the chorus between each verse, but it is often sung just once at the end of the song.

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In the  
C 
County Tyrone, in the  
G7 
town of Dun
C 
gannon
 
Where many a  
F 
ruction 
 
my
G7 
self had a han’ in
 
Bob  
C 
Williamson 
 
 
Em 
lived there, a  
F 
weaver by  
C 
trade
 
And all of  
F 
us thought him a  
G7 
stout-Orange 
 
 
C 
blade.
 
On the twelfth of July as a
F 
round it would come
 
Bob  
C 
played on the flute to the  
G7 
sound of the drum
 
You may
F 
talk of your  
Em 
harp, your  
F 
piano or  
C 
lute
 
But there’s nothing  
F 
compared with the  
G7 
ould Orange  
C 
flute.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Chorus
Toora loo, toora lay, oh it’s six miles from Bangor to Donaghadee.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
But Bob, the deceiver, he took us all in –
For he married a Papist named Bridget McGinn.
Turned Papist himself and forsook the old cause
That gave us our freedom, religion and laws.
Now the boys in the place made some comment upon it,
And Bob had to fly to the Province of Connaught;
He fled with his wife and his fixings, to boot,
And along with the latter his old Orange flute.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At the Chapel on Sundays to atone for past deeds,
He said Paters and Aves and counted his beads,
Till after some time, at the priest’s own desire
He went with his old flute to play in the choir.
He went with his old flute to play in the Mass,
And the instrument shivered, and sighed:”Oh Alas!”
And blow as he would, though it made a great noise,
The flute would play only “The Protestant Boys”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Bob jumped and he started and got into a flutter,
He threw his old flute in the blest Holy Water;
He thought that this charm would bring some other sound,
When he blew it again, it played “Croppies Lie Down!”
And for all he could whistle and finger and blow,
To play Papist music, he found it not go;
“Kick the Pope”, “The Boyne Water” it freely would sound
But one Papist squeakin it couldn’t be found.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
At a council of priests that was held the next day,
They decided to banish the old flute away;
For they couldn’t knock heresy out of its head
And they bought Bob a new one to play in its stead.
So the old flute was doomed, and its fate was pathetic
”Twas fastened and burnt at the stake as heretic.
While the flames roared around it, they heard a strange noise
”Twas the old flute still whistling “The Protestant Boys”.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Toora loo, toora lay, oh it’s six miles from Bangor to Donaghadee.
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