Young Ned Of The Hill

Young Ned Of The Hill - The Pogues

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

Or seen the raven black as night upon a windswept sky

To walk the purple heather to hear the westwind cry

To know that's where the rapparee must die

Since Cromwell pushed us westward to live our lowly lives

Some of us have come 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 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 man I'd like to speak a rapparee

By name and deed

Dispossessed and slaughtered

They put a price upon his head

He is known in song and story

And his deeds are legends still

And murdered for blood money was young Ned of the hill

You've robbed our homes and fortunes

Even drove us from the land

Never 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