Aye Davebhoy, yer a bunnel o' laughs ... proof positive that scotchmen should keep their nebs out of our business.

Nigh ... to work!

This one goes to the tune of a song once sang by Richard Hayward - with a name like thon, surely one of ours - called "The Bright Silvery Light Of The Moon".

It's based on an ecumenical nightmare I once had.

It's called "Me Oul' Drumcree Tent".

ME OUL DRUMCREE TENT
Down the oul Garvaghy Road
On the Twelfth the Orange strolled
With our banners and regalia on display
And the taigs on either side
Opened up their windows wide
To list upon the tunes that we did play

We played "The Proddy Boys"
(And it was a glorious noise)
"The Sash" of course and "Croppy, Lie You Down"
As the Fenians danced a reel
And we sauntered to The Field
The Bowler-Hatted Boys of Portydown

Gerry Adams gave a speech
After Doctor Paisley preached
And Johnny Hume looked on us with a smile
And the army and police
Kindly bade us "Go in peace"
As we walked along the oul' Garvaghy mile

Then I woke up with a shock
As my oul alarum clock
Further such oul folly did prevent
I was stiff and coul and sore
And I farted and I swore
As I gret the day in my oul Drumcree tent