Luyện nghe bài hát The Old Orange Flute

The Old Orange
In the county Tyrone, in the town of
Where a ruckus meself had a hand in
Bob Williamson there, a weaver by trade
And all of us him a stout-hearted blade.
On the twelfth of July as it did come
Bob on the flute to the sound of the drum
You can talk of your fiddles, your or your lute
But there's nothing could sound like the Old Flute.
But the scoundrel, he took us all in
For he married a Papish named Bridget
Turned Papish himself and the Old Cause
gave us our freedom, religion and laws.
And the in the county made such a stir on it
They forced Bob to to the province of Connaught;
Took with him his and his fixins, to boot,
And along with the went the Old Orange Flute.
Each Sunday at mass, to atone for deeds,
Bob said Paters and Aves and counted his
Till one Sunday morn, at the priest's own
Bob for to play with the flutes in the choir.
He went for to play the flutes in the mass
But the instrument and cried."O Alas!"
And blow as he would, though he a great noise,
The would play only "The Protestant Boys".
Bob up and huffed, and was all in a flutter.
He the old flute in the best holy water;
He that this charm would bring some other sound,
he tried it again, it played "Croppies Lie Down!"
And for all he would finger and and blow
For to play Papish music, the flute not go;
"Kick the Pope" to "Boyne Water" was all it would
Not one Papish in it could e'er be found.
At a of priests that was held the next day
They to banish the Old Flute away;
couldn't knock heresy out of its head
So bought Bob another to play in its stead.
And the Old Flute was doomed, and its fate was
fastened and burnt at the stake as heretic.
As the flames rose around it, you could a strange noise
'Twas the Old Flute a-whistlin' "The Protestant Boys".
Note: the tune Protestant Boys is also as Lilliburlero RG
by Patric Galvin, Clancys
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