Ta-rum, ta-rum, the Irish Fusiliers,
They wear the finest uniforms
That I have seen in years,
Their marching is so beautiful
It sends me near to tears,
And they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
Their pipes they play so sweetly,
Their boots they sound so smart,
Their wheeling and their turning,
It goes right to your heart,
They marched around our country
And we're loath to see them part,
And they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
The driver of the tour bus
Was Robert Stanley Green,
And Oh, he was a wizard
At the wheel of a machine,
He carried them all safely
Through Azusa and Moline
While they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
They made the lad a member
Of the Royal Fusiliers,
They drank a toast to Robert
With singing and with cheers;
A friend was at the wheel
And they had no cares or fears
While they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
They stopped in Oklahoma
For dinner and a beer;
The waiter told the Captain,
"We serve no Negroes here.
We do not care if Robert
Is a Royal Fusilier,
He'll have to eat his meal in the bus, bus, bus,
In the bus,
He'll have to eat his meal in the bus."
The Fusiliers in number
Were one hundred and eight,
And each one had before him
His dinner on a plate,
And they all put down their knives and forks
And stood up tall and straight…
They had seen the U.S.A. from a bus, bus, bus,
From a bus,
They had seen the U.S.A. from a bus.
McDooley skirled the bagpipes
And Ginnis beat the drum,
They made a smart maneuver
With a rum ta-rum tum tum,
And all marched out together
The way that they had come,
And Robert drove them off in the bus, bus, bus,
In the bus,
Robert drove them off in the bus.
Ta-rum, Ta-rum, the Irish Fusiliers,
They wear the finest uniforms
That I have seen in years,
Their marching is so beautiful
It sends me near to tears,
And they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
They wear the finest uniforms
That I have seen in years,
Their marching is so beautiful
It sends me near to tears,
And they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
Their pipes they play so sweetly,
Their boots they sound so smart,
Their wheeling and their turning,
It goes right to your heart,
They marched around our country
And we're loath to see them part,
And they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
The driver of the tour bus
Was Robert Stanley Green,
And Oh, he was a wizard
At the wheel of a machine,
He carried them all safely
Through Azusa and Moline
While they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
They made the lad a member
Of the Royal Fusiliers,
They drank a toast to Robert
With singing and with cheers;
A friend was at the wheel
And they had no cares or fears
While they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
They stopped in Oklahoma
For dinner and a beer;
The waiter told the Captain,
"We serve no Negroes here.
We do not care if Robert
Is a Royal Fusilier,
He'll have to eat his meal in the bus, bus, bus,
In the bus,
He'll have to eat his meal in the bus."
The Fusiliers in number
Were one hundred and eight,
And each one had before him
His dinner on a plate,
And they all put down their knives and forks
And stood up tall and straight…
They had seen the U.S.A. from a bus, bus, bus,
From a bus,
They had seen the U.S.A. from a bus.
McDooley skirled the bagpipes
And Ginnis beat the drum,
They made a smart maneuver
With a rum ta-rum tum tum,
And all marched out together
The way that they had come,
And Robert drove them off in the bus, bus, bus,
In the bus,
Robert drove them off in the bus.
Ta-rum, Ta-rum, the Irish Fusiliers,
They wear the finest uniforms
That I have seen in years,
Their marching is so beautiful
It sends me near to tears,
And they toured the U.S.A. in a bus, bus, bus,
In a bus,
They toured the U.S.A. in a bus.
inviata da Alessandro - 11/6/2009 - 14:45
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Testo trovato su Broadside Magazine n.52 del novembre 1964.
Quell'anno c'era un tour della banda de "The Royal Innskilling Fusiliers, the Royal Ulster Rifles and the Royal Irish Fusiliers". Dopo un concerto in Oklahoma, i baldi ragazzoni non ci vedevano dalla fame e si fecero accompagnare dall'autista del loro pullman - un afroamericano - a mangiare in un buon locale. Un centinaio di soldati irlandesi affamati avrebbero dovuto fruttare un bel gruzzolo al fortunato gestore del ristorante... Ma il tizio era un razzista e si rifiutò di servire l'autista di colore... Così gli eroici fucilieri irlandesi lasciarono tutti i loro piatti fumanti sul tavolo e, ordinatamente e militarmente, uscirono tutti e 100 dal locale...