Young Ned of the Hill (Live at the Brixton Academy, 2001)

Have you ever walked the lonesome hills

Heard the curlews cry

Seen the raven black as night

Upon a windswept sky?

To walk the purple heather

To 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

Men with gloves of iron

Are not afraid to die

Who'll fight with Gaelic honour 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 one such man I'd like to speak

A rapparee by name and deed

Dispossessed and slaughtered

With a price upon his head

His name is known in song and story

His deeds are legends still

Murdered for blood money

Was young Ned of the hill

You have robbed our homes and fortunes

Drive me from the land

Never break my spirit

'Cause 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

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, let's go

This tour returns from underground