Dubliners - The Old Orange Flute lyrics

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