Irish traditional song lyrics — collected by Beer Belly Band.
Did you ever walk the lonesome hills or hear the curlews cry
Or see the raven black as night upon a windswept sky
To walk the purple heather, and hear the west wind sigh
To know that’s where the rapparee must die
To know that’s where the rapperee must die
Since Cromwell drove us westward to live our lowly lives
Some of us have deemed to fight from Tipperary hills on high
Noble men with wills of iron who are not afraid to die
Who’ll fight with Gaelic honour held on high
Of one such man I’d like to speak, a rapparee by name and deed
His family dispossessed and slaughtered, he fought the English breed
His name is known in song and story, his deeds are legend still
I’ll tell you now the sorry tale of Young Ned of the Hill
Chorus:
You can rob our homes and fortunes; you can drive us from our land
You can try 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 scourge to the redcoat soldiers with a price upon his head
To tempt a weaker soul to tell them where he kept his bed
One night as he lay sleeping, his head beside his sword
Murdered by his cousin Dwyer, to claim a coward’s reward
The day the cur O’Dwyer murdered Young Ned in his bed
He went for his blood money but was gaoled himself instead
Poor Ned he had been pardoned the very day before
And a noose upon the gallows was O’Dwyer’s just reward
Chorus
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 who you robbed of their birthright
“To Hell or Connaught!” may you burn in Hell tonight.
Chorus