Young Ned Of The Hill

Noble men with wills of iron

Who 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 Connought" 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

They put a price upon his head

His name is known in song and story

His deeds are legend still

And murdered for blood money

Was young Ned of the hill

You have robbed our homes and fortunes

Even drove us from our 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