A posthumous song about Nelson that we (The Reivers) used to sing is this latter-day Rebel ditty:

LORD NELSON

Lord Nelson stood in pompous state upon his pillar high,
And down along O'Connell Street he cast a wicked eye.
He thought how this barbaric race had fought the British crown,
Yet they were content to let him stay right here in Dublin Town.

CHO: So remember brave Lord Nelson, boys,
    He had never known defeat,
    And for his reward they stuck him up
    In the middle of O'Connell Street.

Well, for many years Lord Nelson stood and no one seemed to care
He'd squint at Dan O'Connell who was standing right doen there.
He thought, "The Irish like me, or they wouldn't let me stay.
That is, except those blighters that they call the I.R.A."

CHO:

And then in nineteen sixty-six, on March the seventh day,
A bloody great explosion made Lord Nelson rock and sway.
He crashed and Dan O'Connell cried in woeful misery,
"There are twice as many pigeons now will come and sit on me.

CHO: So remember brave Lord Nelson, boys,
    He had never known defeat.
    And for his reward they blew him up
    In the middle of O'Connell Street.

I'll never forget the time we were asked to provide a musical program for the annual meeting of the Canadian Orange Society Women's Auxilliary (or some such name) which was to be held that year in Kamloops, B.C. where we were located. As I recall there were a hundred or more people there. We had prepared a program in which we omitted all the Rebel songs we knew and just did "neutral" songs like "The Orange and the Green," and "Windy Old Weather," or pro-Orange songs like "The Old Orange Flute." We decided to sing "Lord Nelson" as our final song -- the audience suddenly grew very quiet as the song progressed, and we were aware of many frowns -- but after finishing the verses above we went right on into "The Sash My Father Wore" (which is sung to the same tune) and the unexpected switch brought down the house! Afterwards a rather stout, dowager-type lady came up to me and asked, "Where are you boys from?" Without thinking, I told her the truth and said, "Well, Chuck is a Liverpudlian, and I'm a Yank." She stared at me in disbelief. Then suddenly gave me a knowing smile and a little wave of her hand and said, "Ah, go on with ye, you're pullin' me leg. I know you're both from Belfast." I gave her a sly wink, and left her with her happy misperception.

Reiver 2