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Updated: June 13, 2025
No, your hanner, though I played Croppies Get Up, till my fingers ached, as I stumped before him and his mobs and processions, he never gave me the sovereign: unlike your hanner who gave me the shilling ye promised me for playing Croppies Lie Down, Daniel O'Connell never gave me the sovereign he promised me for playing Croppies Get Up.
He winked at the soldier as he spoke a sly, humorous wink a wink which hinted at a good joke to come. The dragoon, a fat, good-natured man', grinned in reply. "I won't split on you, you young thieves. I've taken my share of loot before this, and I expect some pickings out of the croppies' houses before I've done. I won't cry halvers on you. What's yours is yours. But tell us what it is."
It is an entirely Catholic district, and not at all on the ordinary route by which the processionists would reach their homes. Yet, in a spirit of aggression, and well-armed, as usual, with Orange banners waving, drums beating, and bands playing "Croppies lie down," "The Boyne Water," and similar airs, this was the district they sought to march through.
Well, your hanner, I joined with the cause and became a Papist, I mane a Catholic once more, and went at the head of processions, covered all over with green ribbons, playing "Croppies Get Up," "Granny Whale," and the like. But, your hanner; though I went the whole hog with the repalers and emancipators, they did not make their words good by making a man of me.
Early in the morning I can land pickerel and croppies where a minnow or a frog could sleep on the end of a six pounder's nose. Don't tell me." "Yes," put in Jerry, "and I can sit right between the two of you and with my number two Skinner and a frog or a bacon rind pull 'em out while you fellows go to sleep between nibbles." "Bully!" exclaimed Frank.
And O, what a day for me was the glorious first of July when with my whole body covered with Orange ribbons I fiddled "Croppies Lie Down" "Boyne Water," and the "Protestant Boys" before the procession which walked round Willie's figure on horseback in College Green, the man and horse all ablaze with Orange colours.
Happily for all parties, indeed, in Ireland, political differences have so completely stamped the externals of each party that he must be a man of small penetration who cannot, in the first five minutes he is thrown among strangers, calculate with considerable certainty whether it will be more conducive to his happiness to sing, "Croppies Lie Down," or "The Battle of Ross."
"I cannot, your hanner, my fingers never learnt to play such a blackguard tune; but if you wish to hear Croppies Get Up I can oblige ye." "You are a Roman Catholic, I suppose?" "I am not, your hanner I am a Catholic to the back-bone, just like my father before me. Come, your hanner, shall I play ye Croppies Get Up?" "No," said I; "it's a tune that doesn't please my ears.
We'll join you to a man, and accordingly, with one voice, they gave the stanza at the top of their voices, little Bob leading them, to the air of 'Croppies lie Down, in a style that was perfectly irresistible. "Thus ended a night in an Orange Lodge, but not so out of it.
"And perhaps," said I, "before I die, the Orange will be out of the kennel and the Croppies in, even as they were in my young days." "Who knows, your hanner? and who knows that I may not play the old tune round Willie's image in College Green, even as I used some twenty-seven years ago?" "Oh then you have been an Orange fiddler?" "I have, your hanner.
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