The Sash My Father Wore – A Belfast View

My daddy's suit is in the cleaners
Sure I'm collecting it today
His Orange Sash in the wardrobe
And a record's playing 'Dolly's Brae'

At the top of our wee Belfast Street
The wood is piled up high
Sure it won't belong now
Till the 12th day of July

I'm a little boy again
Painting kerbs red, white and blue
And putting up some bunting
On our wee windows too

One brother has a band pole
Another has a drum
Another has a comb and paper
And "The Sash" you hear him hum

We are all excited
Because on the 11th night
All the family get together
To see the wood all set alight

Then a wee walk down the Newton
Then across to Sandy Row
A pastie and a bag of chips
Eaten in the firelight glow

And walking late back home
Made up bands we'd see
Two pot lids for cymbals
That's how it used to be

And early in the morning
In the distance hear a flute
And my daddy he was up and dressed
With his sash and dry cleaned suit

And he walked down the road
With his head held high
Like his daddy and his granddad walked
On the 12th day of July

How I love my memories
The family all together
Marching to the field
In all kinds of weather

Buy a hot dog or a burger
And a bottle of lemonade
It's all these little memories
That for me shall never fade

Orange Men in Heaven
Angels in the sky
Please look after all of us
On this twelfth day of July