And [Am] heard the curlews [Em] cry?

Or [Am] seen the Raven [Em] black as night,

[C] Upon a [G] windswept [Am] sky?

To [Am] walk the purple [Em] heather,

And [Am] hear the westwind [Em] cry

To [Am] know that's where the [Em] rapparee must [Am] die

Since Cromwell put 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 on you Oliver Cromwell

You've raped our mother land

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 our Connacht", may you burn in Hell tonight

Of one such man I'd like to speak

A rappareee 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 [C] young Ned [G] of the [Am] hill

You have robbed our homes and fortunates

Even drove us from our land

You tried to break our spirit

But you 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