I met a bloody Orangeman and killed him as he passed

I killed him for his passing my boys I sent his soul to hell

And when he got to hell he had a strange tale to tell.

[chorus]

Hol-da-roddy-ri hol-da-roddy-ri

Hol-da-roddy-ri there's whiskey in the jar

When an Orangeman dies he goes down below

The worms eat his flesh and the devil takes his soul

The gates of hell fly open and the devil jumps for joy

For there is nothing he likes better than a stout Orange boy.

If I had a yard of Orangeman`s skin

I'd beat it into drums for the bold Fenian men

And the drums they would rattle and the fifes they would play

And we`d all go to mass on St. Patrick`s day.