Battle at Oldbridge
On the slopes of Tullyallen at a bend in the River Boyne
Thirty thousand true and loyal men with William did conjoin
To face and fight rebellious might, no thoughts that they might die
They stood as one with pike and gun on the Eleventh of July.
Assembled on the other bank the Jacobites prepared
In Oldbridge town their plans laid down and offered up their prayers
As night wore on toward a sunny dawn in God they placed their trust
When the warm mist cleared and judgment neared James waited on the thrust.
On the stroke of ten from a wooded glen six pounders paved the way
In Greenhills’ field, forced to yield, the Papish army fled
In disarray and with much dismay James tried vainly to recoup
Brave Schombergs’ troops—a valiant group—were intent to win the day.
As James ran scared bold William dared to consolidate his rank
He sent his best to Slane due west to confuse and to outflank
The Blue Guards forded the shallow stream, advanced as one, complete
They stood their ground while Papish hounds retreated towards Duleek.
The flintlocks roared, the twelve bore scored and bullets found their mark
The Orange camp did not relent and dashed the Papist horde
A dark brown horse traversed the course—William led the day
And James he fled—white paper splayed–with dead along the way.
In mid July, the battle cry was for Country and for King
And proud to fight for Williams’ cause, and wear that sprig of green
The battle raged, they did engage, they held their standards high
They fought the fight and gained the Right—on the Twelfth day of July.