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O! I have been in Lodges
grand,
Many Orange friends I've met,
Not one fair scene or kindly smile,
Can Orange hearts forget;
Yet I confess I am content,
No, never will I roam -
Oh, steer not then from Orange truths,
Under Popery to groan.
In Orange hearts there's right good
cheer,
And bosoms pure as snow -
In Orange hearts their truths are dear,
Right well do Papists know;
In Orange truths my time I pass,
No, never will I roam -
Oh steer not then from Orange truths,
Under Popery to groan.
England is my birth place,
God bless her enlighten's shore -
O'er Popish isles their truths have spread,
Which Papists burnt and tore;
But pleasant days with friends I pass,
God grant me ne'er to roam -
But to the house of truth to steer,
Where Popery meets its doom.
Orangemen may traverse the polar zone,
And boldly claim his right,
For his flag it has so widely spread,
That the sun ne'er sets on his might;
Let the haughty Orangemen see and know
The place of his home and birth;
And the flush will spread from cheek to brow
As he boasts of his enlighten'd earth.
'Tis a glorious order, deny it who can,
That breathes in the word - "I'm an Orangeman!"
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