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I've heard them the orange drums Rapping out the battle cry Metaphoric guns cracking in July Then the crucifixes and the beads And the twisted hands weaving Brigid's reeds Recalling the black and tans Round the cemetary by the church Flowers of hatred bloom While the living march To a dead piper's tune I've heard them the orange drums Rapping out the battle cry Metaphoric guns cracking in July Then the crucifixes and the beads And the twisted hands weaving Brigid's reeds Recalling the black and tans Their dreams are old and senile As the wreath marks the end of another life The men in black shoot their salute As the crowd turn from the wife And the Prime Minister and the Brits go back To where the others came from Another death is offered to God Belfast wakes to another dawn From Letras Mania