The Orangemen marched soberly to hymns but their younger followers preferred something more upbeat.
"Orange feet are made for walkin
And that is what they'll do
So beware Garvaghy Road
For they'll walk all over you," they sang.
"We'll get down this road if it kills us," said Mr Davy Briggs, who walked alongside the marchers with his friends.
Around 1,500 Orangemen set off from Carleton Orange Hall in the town centre, accompanied by the Star of David accordion band. They marched, tall and proud, in immaculate suits with white gloves, bowler hats and carefully rolled umbrellas. Their young followers discussed their skirmishes with police.
They passed St John the Baptist's Catholic Church, where worshippers from the Garvaghy Road were gathering for Mass. Surrounded by barbed wire barricades, it was more like a military base than a church. Police in riot gear and British soldiers stood outside. "We must be the most protected community in the world," said Mr Sean Campbell.
The band played Nearer My God to Thee as the Orangemen passed the Garvaghy Road. Some loyalists jeered. Mr Breandan Mac Cionnaith urged the nationalists not to respond.
There was applause as the marchers reached Drumcree Church. "You deserve a medal. You're all wonderful," said one woman.
As the Orangemen filed inside for their service, families had picnics in the fields. Tins of cream biscuits and flasks of tea were set out on the grass. Elderly couples stretched out on blankets. A group of young lads tossed a football about. "It's a great day out, is Drumcree," said one teenager.
The sun poured down on the pretty hilltop church. Only the rows of barbed wire, trenches, and concrete barricades marred the landscape. Ulster and Union flags fluttered in the summer breeze.
But down at the 20ft steel barricade which blocks the marchers from the Garvaghy Road the mood was less hospitable.
"F- - - the BBC," a loyalist shouted at a CNN cameraman. The American explained who he was.
"Well it's all the same. You're cowboys over there. You took the land from the Indians and you're biased against the Protestant people of Ulster," came the reply.
The CNN man insisted he didn't have an agenda but it was no good. Soon a crowd was shouting at him. A woman in a straw hat intervened: "Tell him off but don't swear. That only lets us down."
Eventually the cameraman moved away to loud cheers. "Go back to the Garvaghy Road where you belong," someone yelled. "One down, 20 more to go," somebody else shouted, eyeing the rest of the media.
"What about wee blondie there?" said one loyalist, pointing to a photographer on top of a wall.
An Orangeman turned to The Irish Times. "Do you write for the women's page then?"
A female loyalist reprimanded him. "It's more women we need. If you let us into the Orange Order you wouldn't be standing here. You would be marching down the Garvaghy Road."
After their service, the Orangemen paraded in strict formation to police lines but no one from the RUC was there to even accept their letter of protest.
The crowd roared and cheered as Portadown district master, Mr Harold Gracey, began his speech.
"I feel a bit like a pop star," he blushed.
There was hissing and booing at every mention of the Parades Commission or the RUC.
But it was the local SDLP representative and new Minister of Agriculture, Ms Brid Rodgers, who attracted the most venom.
Ms Rodgers, originally from Bunbeg, should "go back to Donegal where she belongs", Mr Gracey said.
After the speeches, one man attempted to cross the trenches but he didn't get far. He planted a flag and retreated.
The protesters made a lot of noise as they stood in the fields but really they didn't know what to do.
"It's a bit disheartening. We come here every year but it does no good," said one man.
"It's a shame we don't have Armalites," said another as he looked across to the nationalist side.
There were around 3,000 loyalists at the protest but the talk had been of tens of thousands. An hour after the service it started raining and soon there were only 100 protesters left.
"I'm willing to die for Ulster but I'll be damned if I'm going to get wet for it," said one loyalist as he left.