Have you ever walked the lonesome hills 

or heard the curlews cry 

Or seen the raven black as night 

Upon a windswept sky 

To walk the purple heather 

And hear the west wind cry 

To know that's where the rapparee must die 



Since Cromwell pushed us westward 

To live our lowly lives 

There's some of us have deemed to fight 

From Tipperary mountains high 

Noble men with wills of iron 

Who are not afraid to die 

Who'll fight with gaelic honour held on high 



[Chorus]

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 one such man I'd like to speak 

A rapparee by name and deed 

His family dispossessed and slaughtered 

They put a price upon his head 

His name is know in song and story 

His deeds are legends still 

And murdered for blood money 

Was young Ned of the hill 



You have 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 and iron will 

As long as there are gallant men 

Like young Ned of the hill 



[Chorus]