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The Sash
From Wikipedia, the free encyclopedia
The Sash (also known as The Sash My Father Wore) is an Irish ballad commemorating the victory in the Williamite war in Ireland in 1690-1691 over James IIs Catholic invasion.
The lyrics mention the 1689 Siege of Derry, the 1689 Battle of Newtownbutler near Enniskillen, the 1690 Battle of the Boyne and the 1691 Battle of Aughrim. It is popular amongst Ulster loyalists and many unionists in Northern Ireland, as well as in parts of Scotland. For many in the Ulster loyalist community, it represents an alternative national anthem and a response to the "Wearing of the Green."
The lyrics are thought to be around 100 years old, and the melody has been traced back to the early 19th century [1]. The tune of "The Sash" was well known around Europe, and before the lyrics were added, it was a love song that lamented division between people. This song, "Irish Molly-O", was rediscovered and is sung by Tommy Sands.[citation needed] Instead of "it was old and it was beautiful", the lyrics were "she was young and she was beautiful".
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The factual accuracy of this section is disputed. Please see the relevant discussion on the talk page |
Sure I'm an Ulster Orangeman, from Erin's isle I came,
To see my British brethren all of honour and of fame,
And to tell them of my forefathers who fought in days of yore,
That I might have the right to wear, the sash my father wore!
(Chorus) It is old but it is beautiful, and its colours they are fine,
It was worn at Derry, Aughrim, Enniskillen and the Boyne,
My father wore it as a youth in bygone days of yore,
And it's on the Twelfth I love to wear the sash my father wore
For those brave men who crossed the Boyne have not fought or died in vain,
Our Unity, Religion, Laws, and Freedom to maintain,
If the call should come we'll follow the drum, and cross that river once more,
That tomorrow's Ulsterman may wear the sash my father wore!
And when some day, across the sea to Antrim's shore you come,
We'll welcome you in royal style, to the sound of flute and drum,
And Ulster's hills shall echo still, from Rathlin to Dromore,
As we sing again the loyal strain of the sash my father wore!
