King Billy on the Hill (The Bennettsbridge Review)
(Verse 1)
Away down south in Kilkenny’s heart, where the River Nore does flow,
A story’s told of a summer’s day, three hundred years ago.
The dust it rose from the Gowran Road, as the trumpets sounded shrill,
And the Dutchmen cheered for the Prince of Orange, King Billy on the Hill!
(Chorus)
Oh, King Billy on the Hill, my boys, King Billy on the Hill!
He looked across the river's bend and he saw his army drill.
With thirty thousand men at arms, and a spirit none could kill,
He held the fate of Ireland there, King Billy on the Hill!
(Verse 2)
The "Ring" was white with a sea of tents, from the school to the river's edge,
With thirty thousand musketeers behind every stone and hedge.
Six thousand more of the horsemen bold, through the fields they galloped still,
While the Lion of Orange caught the wind for King Billy on the Hill!
(Verse 3)
The heavy brass of the cannon train, they rumbled o’er the stone,
The greatest force that the valley of the Nore had ever known.
Five hundred wagons for the bread, and the mills were never still,
As they baked the rations for the host of King Billy on the Hill!
(Verse 4)
He sat his horse on the high R-seven-zero-two (R702),
And he watched the Blue Guards march below, a grand and royal view.
From the Old Stone Mill to the Danesfort plains, they obeyed his royal will,
Before they marched on Kilkenny town with King Billy on the Hill!
(Chorus)
Oh, King Billy on the Hill, my boys, King Billy on the Hill!
He looked across the river's bend and he saw his army drill.
With thirty thousand men at arms, and a spirit none could kill,
He held the fate of Ireland there, King Billy on the Hill!
