Wee Willie John McFadden was a loyal Ulster prod.
He thought that Ian Paisley was just one step down from God.
He thought he'd get the children in the backstreets of Ardoyne.
And he thought that history started with the Battle of the Boyne.
He thought that history started with the Battle of the Boyne.
One day he took a brick in his hands and he dandered up the falls.
He was muttering "Up the Rangers" and humming "Derry's Walls."
He broke the big shop window to annoy the Pope of Rome.
He took the record player out and then he started home.
He took the record player out and then he started home.
Next night they had a hooley in the local Orange Hall.
Wee Willie took his player to make music for the ball.
He chose a stack of records of a very loyal kind.
But when the music started up, he nearly lost his mind.
But when the music started up, he nearly lost his mind.
This Fenian Record Player was a rebel to the core.
It played the songs the Orange Hall had never heard before.
From "Dolly's Braes" and "Derry's Walls" it didn't give a fig.
It speeded up "God Save the Queen" till it sounded like a jig.
It speeded up "God Save the Queen" till it sounded like a jig.
But the boys were clean demented to the ground Wee Willie was thrown.
They kicked his ribs in one by one to the tune of "Garryowen."
They threw him out the window to a song of "Auld Sinn Fein."
They kicked him all down Sandy Row to "A Nation Once Again."
They kicked him all down Sandy Row to "A Nation Once Again."
There's a moral to this story, what it is, I cannot say.
Maybe it's the ancient curse, crime will never pay.
But if you ask Wee Willie McFadden, he'll say, "You're kind you know.
If you want to pinch a record player do it up the Shankill Road.
If you want to pinch a record player do it up the Shankill Road."