Twas on July the twenty-eighth
In the year of thirty-seven,
A fire was
lit without a grate
And the flames leaped high to heaven.
Our King and Queen came sailing down
The Lough in the best
And we welcomed them to Belfast town
With a bonfire on the Border.
The Queen put a muffler round her
Assisted by her weemin,
The King walked up and down the deck
Surrounded by his G-men.
He asked "What is that
glare I see?"
The reply was there in order:
"Itīs Ireland united in loyalty
With a bonfire on the Border !"
say the spark was Ulsterīs own
Some say it was extraneous,
A man in Down said it lit on its own
The combustion being
A lad who loves his King and Queen
And stands for Law and Order,
Says the flames were Orange, White
In that bonfire on the Border.
They may prance and dance in Belfast Town,
They may croon īWhereasī
They may sever the Empire from the Crown,
But they might as well not be troublinī
Neither Lay Tribunal
nor Legal Bench,
Nor turnkey, tout or warder,
Nor all the Boyne water can ever quench
That bonfire on the Border!
Hereīs to the lads that played the game,
Hereīs to the minds that planned it,
Hereīs to the hands that lit the
Hereīs to the winds that fanned it:
May it blaze again from shore to shore
Consuming our landīs disorder:
it leap and roar from shore to shore
Till it burns away the Border!