It's nearly fifty years ago, when I was young and free,
A friend of mine he grupped me by the arm and says to me,
"I'm sure you'd like to do your bit for dear oul' Ireland,"
"This night," says he, "You'll come with me and join the Mounthill Band."
There never was an outfit wi' such talent and renown.
They were known in every village and in every Ulster town.
Their skill, their fame, their magic name spread over all the land,
And the heroes of the nation were the boys o' the Mounthill Band.
I never, never will forget one twelfth day of July,
The drums they rolled like thunder and the banners they did fly,
The streets were lined wi' thousands, there was scarcely room to stand,
But as we appeared they yelled and cheered, "Here comes the Mounthill Band."
As we approached the Orange field the people stood and stared,
The M.P. on the platform stopped his speech and then declared,
"O Brethren, listen to that sound, that wondrous magic noise,
So let us give three rousing cheers to greet these Mounthill boys."
Since that great day I've wandered far away from Erin's shore,
Of famous residential bands I've seen them by the score.
I've heard the British Grenadiers play to the queen's command,
But they cudn't haul' a candle to the rousin' Mounthill Band.
There never was an outfit wi' such talent and renown,
They were known in every village and in every Ulster town,
Whenever I return again unto my native land,
Sure the first thing that I want to see and hear is Mounthill Band.
John Clifford (1964)