Oh, it is the biggest mix-up that you have ever seen.
My father, he was Orange and me mother, she was green.
My father was an Ulster man, proud Protestant was he.
My mother was a Catholic girl, from county Cork was
she.
They were married in two churches, lived happily
enough,
Until the day that I was born and things got rather
tough.
Baptized by Father Riley, I was rushed away by car,
To be made a little Orangeman, my father's shining
star.
I was christened "David Anthony," but still, inspite of
that,
To me father, I was William, while my mother called me
Pat.
With Mother every Sunday, to Mass I'd proudly stroll.
Then after that, the Orange lodge would try to save my
soul.
For both sides tried to claim me, but i was smart
because
I'd play the flute or play the harp, depending where I
was.
Now when I'd sing those rebel songs, much to me
mother's joy,
Me father would jump up and say, "Look here would you
me boy.
That's quite enough of that lot", he'd then toss me a
coin
And he'd have me sing the Orange Flute or the Heros of
The Boyne
One day me Ma's relations came round to visit me.
Just as my father's kinfolk were all sitting down to
tea.
We tried to smooth things over, but they all began to
fight.
And me, being strictly neutral, I bashed everyone in
sight.
My parents never could agree about my type of school.
My learning was all done at home, that's why I'm such a
fool.
They've both passed on, God rest 'em, but left me
caught between
That awful color problem of the Orange and the Green.