Young Ned of the Hill

Have you ever walked the lonesome hills and heard the curlews cry?

Or seen the raven black as night upon the windswept sky?

To walk the purple heather and hear the west wind cry

To know that's where the rapparee must die

Yes, since Cromwell pushed us westward to live our lowly lives

Some of us have deemed to fight from Tipperary mountains high

Noble men with wills of iron who are not afraid to die

And who'll fight with Gaelic honor held on high

A curse upon you, Oliver Cromwell! You who raped our Motherland

I hope you're rotting down in Hell for the horrors that you sent

To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright

"To Hell or Connaught!" May you burn in hell tonight

Of such a man I'd like to speak, a rapparee by name and deed

His family dispossessed and slaughtered, with a price upon his head

His name is known in song and story, and his deeds are legends still

And murdered for blood money was the young Ned of the hill

Well, you robbed our homes and fortunes, even drove us from the land

You tried to break our spirit, but you'll never understand

The love of dear old Ireland that will forge an iron will

As long as there are gallant men like young Ned of the hill

A curse upon you, Oliver Cromwell, who raped our Motherland

I hope you're rotting down in Hell for the horrors that you sent

To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright

"To Hell or Connaught!" May you burn in hell tonight