Eighteenth of December Enemies of Ulster Englishmans BetrayalEnniskillen

Eighteenth of December

Awake, you loyal Orangemen,
Get ready for the battle,
For popish knaves now scheme and plan,
And treason loudly prattle.
Unfurl your good old Orange flag,
Old Derry's Walls remember,
And tell those cowardly sons of Rome,
You never will surrender.

Then here's to the brave old 'Prentice Boys,
Who never will surrender;
Who celebrate their victory gained
On the Eighteenth of December.

When Gladstone rushed his Home Rule Bill,
Devoid of sense or reason,
Backed up by men he once denounced,
As steeped to the lips of treason,
'Twas then brave Ulster's sons declared
Their firm determination
To guard the rights their fathers gained,
And have no seperation.

Then here's to the brave old 'Prentice Boys,
Who never will surrender;
Who celebrate their victory gained
On the Eighteenth of December.

At Derry, Aughrim, and the Boyne,
Our banners waved victorious;
At Enniskillen and Diamond, too,
We chased the foe before us.
And should they dare to rise again,
Pope, traitor or Pretender,
Old Scotland's sons will man their guns,
With shouts of "No Surrender".

Then here's to the brave old 'Prentice Boys,
Who never will surrender;
Who celebrate their victory gained
On the Eighteenth of December.

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Enemies of Ulster

The enemies of Ulster are cowards, every one
they call themselves the IRA, but they are only scum.
The souls of those they've murdered, proud from heaven above
but the enemies of Ulster don't know the word called love.

They shoot and kill then runaway and crawl back to their den
these monsters are not human, they are not even men.
But their time will come, for mark my word they'll pay the price someday
for they'll be cut down like the mad dogs they are by the men of the UDA.

One cold dark night in the month of March in 1971
three boys just barely in their teens went out to have some fun
But these evil men who have no god, to these boys laid their claim
and left them lying murdered in a lonely country lane.

The protestants of Ulster together must unite
to beat these rebel cowards who murder in the night.
We'll send them back where they belong to crawl back to their den
and Loyalists shall all rejoice, and Ulster's free again.

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Englishmans Betrayal

(Platoon version)

Come gather round my comrades, this first of July morn
When Ulster men are proudly Glad of the land where they were born
I will tell you of our history and how it came to pass'
That we went once more to Englands aid so far from old Belfast

It was in the dark uncertain days of early world war one
When Britains shores were threatened by the jackboot of the hun
But now Englands cry for help was heard we let her have no fear
And we sent across the Flanders fields the Ulster Volunteers

It was at a place they called The Somme on the first day of July
When twenty thousand Ulster men they prepared to fight and die
Well they bravely charged through no-mans land with the red hand flying high
And their cry it was no surrender boys, old Ulsters battle cry

Well the Gemans in their trenches they could scarce believe their eyes
When up and charged those Ulster men and they heard their battle cry
For what kind of men are these they said who would leave their native land
For to die upon a battle field and what is that strange red hand

So on and on they charged that day where others feared to tread
And in the mud and on the wire,they left behind their dead
Now the only flag to fly that day behind the German lines
Was the old red hand of Ulster with its Shamrocks bound in nine

And for those who came back home again what changes did they find
For the counties that made Ulster up they no longer numbered nine
Three counties had been stole away by those we fought to save
For now this was Englands gratitude to the sacrifice we made

So gather round my comrades, this first of July morn
When Ulster men are proudly Glad of the land where they were born
And we'll never more be sent away to fight in a foriegn land
or to die for someone elses cause at an Englishmans command

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Enniskillen

The children gathered wreathes in hand,
Within a border town,
The old men marched with pride again,
Their medals brightly shone.

Remembrance Day had just begun,
To honour Ulsters fallen,
And ended in the massacre,
of Enniskillen town.

Her streets are all deserted now,
Her wreathes are coffin bound,
The young and old rest side by side,
in Enniskillen town.

So let the pipers sad lament,
Fermanaghs hills resound,
That all the world may shed a tear,
for Enniskillen town.

And in a moments silence pray,
For Ulsters old and young,
Who gave their lives that poppy day,
in Enniskillen town.

And from some lonely Flanders field,
A poppy red return,
To honour Ulsters fallen dead,
in Enniskillen town.

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