Man dear, but this oul' swimmin' can be a right lonely business! I was thinkin' th'awr night of a wee song to help pass the time. An' heavens above! If I didn't come up wi' this wee number!

There was a wile colonial prod, McKittery was his name
He was born and reared in Ulster, in a place called Killicomaine
He loves the orange, hates the green, in marches oft he's trod
And sorely do his brethren miss, the wile colonial prod

At the age of forty-seven years, he set out from Drumcree
To swim to far Australia, across the briny sea
For he'd fallen for a fair one, and he swore t'Almighty God
That she would get a good look-see at the wile colonial prod

It was off Larne pier one fine spring morn, into the waves he div
Not one care for his safety did brave McKittery give
He struck out with such vigour, he was like a human cod
We raised a cheer and downed a beer for the wile colonial prod

While down by bonny Biscay-o, the weather blew up rough
Other - aye, and tamer! - men, might well have had enough
But the noble sons of Ulster honour sovereigns and fear God
And a howlin' gale would not prevail with the wile colonial prod

And passing by Gibral-a-tar, McKittery raised a fist
And swore to help defend the boys, who on that rock, persist
To claim the right to government by Liz to whom they nod
And tug their loyal forelocks like the wile colonial prod

And down the coast of Africky, he floated and he swum
And up above was beaming down the equatorial sun
"Each day is like the glorious 12th" mused Isaac as he trod
Water off Nigeria – the wile colonial prod

The story isn't over yet, it's barely halfway through
For that valiant son of Orange, in his trunks red, white and blue
Has many miles to swim till up some foreign beach he'll plod
And then Ali can get pally with her wile colonial prod.