Loyalist Lyrics.co.uk (G)

Gallant Clyde Valley
Gibralter
God Save the Queen
Green Fields of France
Green Grassy slopes of the Boyne
Gunrunners

Gallant Clyde Valley

Theres a rusty old steamer on a far distant shore
Its sail will sail into Larne harbour once more
Her names the CLYDE VALLEY and a proud ship is she
For she helped to keep Ulster both loyal and free.
The liberals in England in 1914 said
Home Rule for Ireland we'll wash our hands clean.

Now Carson spoke firmly, they did all agree
That we must be armed to keep Ulster free.
What brave men will get them, they rightly got asked
Carson he knew just the man for the task.
Major Fred Crawford, a brave Ulster son
Was sent off to Europe to purchase the guns.

When a ship was required to bring bullets and guns
To arm Ulster's men , royal fathers and sons
What better than one built in Belfast they said
Clyde Valley was really the munjoy instead.
She sailed proudly forward her strange roundevous
With her master in charge, Bold Captain Agnew

At a spot predetermined on a wide open sea
Met HMS Fanny of the Royal Navy
The guns were transferred to the Clyde Valley's hold
Now that moment in history can proudly be told.
She made for Larne harbour with the greatest of speed
Knowing her cargo was Ulster's great need.

She knew she was risking both gunshot and shell
But God smiled upon her and protected her well
And when we look back and recall days of yore
We pause to remember Clyde Valley once more
And when you sail back to the place you were born
Remember Lord Carson and those he did scorn
And when you sail back to the place you were born
Remember Clyde Valley and those she did scorn.

Gibralter

In a place called Gibralter, well known as the rock,
Three I.R.A scumbags were counting thier stock,
When along came some soldiers, they are Britains best,
And thier known the whole world over as the proud S.A.S.

And the I.R.A, were blown away,
Three corpses were left in Gibralter that day.

Well Dublin she was angry, And so was the Doyle,
For the bomb in Gibralter the soldiers did foil,
For they planned to murder and leave many for dead,
But the brave S.A.S put thier gun to thier head.

And the I.R.A, were blown away,
Three corpses were left in Gibralter that day.

That wanker Gerry Adams what a wonderfull sight,
Behind an old Tombstone he cowered with fright,
The mad yellow provo didn't know what to do,
When faced with one Proddy so brave and so true.

And the I.R.A, were blown away,
Three corpses were left in old Milltown that day.

This strong loyal Proddy, He's called Micheal Stone,
Right in to the graveyard, he went on his own,
Five bombs they were thrown and yet only one missed,
But you couldn't see the fenians from the steam off thier piss.

And the I.R.A, were blown away,
Three corpses were left in old Milltown that day.

Yes the I.R.A, were blown away,
Three corpses were left in old Milltown that day.

God Save the Queen

God save our gracious Queen
Long live our noble Queen,
God save the Queen:
Send her victorious,
Happy and glorious,
Long to reign over us:
God save the Queen.

O Lord, our God, arise,
Scatter thine enemies,
And make them fall:
Confound their politics,
Frustrate their knavish tricks,
On thee our hopes we fix:
God save us all.

Thy choicest gifts in store,
On her be pleased to pour;
Long may she reign:
May she defend our laws,
And ever give us cause
To sing with heart and voice
God save the Queen.

Green Fields of France

And how do ye do young Willie McBride
Do ye mind if I sit here down by yer graveside
To rest for a while 'neath the warm summer sun
I've been walking all day boys am I nearly done
I see by your gravestone you were only nineteen
When you joined the great fallen back in 1916
Well I hope you died well and I hope you died clean
But young Willie McBride was it sad and obscene

Well did they beat the drum slowly?
Did they play the fife lowly?
Did they sound the death march as they lowered you down?
Did the band play the last post or chorus?
Or did the pipes play the flowers of the forest

Did ye leave a young wife or a sweetheart behind
In some faithful heart is your memory enshrined
Although you died back there in 1916
In that faithful heart you're forever nineteen
Or are you a stranger without even name
Enclosed and forgotten behind a glass frame
In an old photograph, torn, battered n stained
That's faded to yellow in a brown leather frame

Well the sun how it shines on those green fields of France
And there's a warm summer breeze it makes the red poppies dance
But look how the sun shines from under the clouds
There's no gas, no barbed wire, there's no gun firing now
But here in this graveyard sure its still no mans land
Where the countless white crosses lie new in the sand
cos for mans blind indifference towards his fellow man
Sure a whole generation were butchered and damned

Well young Willie McBride I can't stop wondering why
Do all those who lie here, know why did they die
Did they really believe, when they answered the call
Did they really believe, that this war would end wars
But they saw all the suffering, sure the glory, the pain
Sure the killing, and the dying, was all done in vain
For young Willie McBride it all happened again, And again
And again And again And again.

Green Grassy Slopes of the Boyne

Some folks sing of mountains and valleys
Where the wild flowers abundantly grow,
And some of the wave-crested billows
That dash ''neath the waters below.
But I''m going to speak of a river,
And I hope in the chorus you''ll join -
Of the deeds that were done by King William,
On the green grassy slopes of the Boyne.

On the green grassy slopes of the Boyne,
Where the Orangemen with William did join,
And fought for our glorious deliverance
On the green grassy slopes of the Boyne

On the banks of that beautiful river,
There the bones of our forefathers lie,
Awaiting the sound of the trumpet
To call them to glory on high.
In our hearts we will cherish their memories,
And we all like true brethren will join,
And praise God for sending us King William,
To the green grassy slopes of the Boyne.

Orangemen will be loyal and steady,
For no matter whate''er may betide,
We will still mind our war-cry "No Surrender!"
So long as we''ve God on our side,
And if ever our service is needed,
Then we all like true Brethren will join,
And fight, like valiant King William,
On the green grassy slopes of the Boyne.

Gunrunners

When I was eighteen years of age,
In Carson's army I engaged,
To fight for Ulster against home rule,
A mauser rifle was my tool,
On Covenant day my first parade,
When over half a million promised aid,
We go to fight the enemy now,
So we landed fifty thousand guns at Larne,
We go to fight the enemy now ,
So we landed fifty thousand guns at Larne.

That April night I'll never forget,
Dispersing guns to face the threat,
Throught the length of our beloved land,
The die was cast, we made our stand,
But another foe was before us now,
Home rule was dead beneath the plough,
When across to France our divisions sailed,
Britain called we would not fail,
When across to France our divisions sailed,
Britain called we would not fail.

We were Gunrunners, Gunrunners.

So the storys told and its understood,
Of a charge that morning, Thiepval Wood,
When Ulsters flower their lives did give,
So that we at home could in freedom live,
Well alas I fell on the Sommes great shore,
But not alone there were thousands more,
From every street, town and dale,
A father, son or brother fell,
From every street, town or dale,
A father, son or brother fell.

They were Gunrunners, Gunrunners. Yes Gunrunners.