Belfast Food CroMusic at cromusic.crolinks.com [V] Have you ever walked a lonesome hills And heard the Curlews cry Or seen the raven black as night upon the windswept sky To walk the purple heather And hear the west wind cry To know there is the rapparee must die Since Cromwell pushed us westward To live our lowly lives There some of us have deem to fight From Tipperary mountains high Noble man with wills of iron Who are not afraid of die Who'll fight with Gaelic honour held on high A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell You who rapped our motherland I hope you're rutting down in hell For the horrors that you send 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 known in song and story His deed's 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 for dear old Ireland That will forge an iron will As long as there are gallant men Like young Ned of the hill