Doesn’t seem quite so long ago,
The last time that I saw you,
Ain’t it funny how the memories grow,
They always fold around you,
They tried to break you in a living hell,
But they couldn’t find a way,
So they killed you in a H-Block cell,
And hoped that all would turn away,
Thought that your spirit couldn’t rise again
But it dared to prove them wrong,
And in death you tore away the chains,
And let the world hear freedom’s song,
Yet the heartache and pain linger on,
They’re still here though it’s so long since you’ve gone,
But we’re stronger now you showed us how,
Freedom’s fight can be won
I wish there was an easy road to choose,
To bring the heartache to an end,
But easy roads are always sure to lose,
I’ve seen that time and time again,
If you can stand by me like yesterday,
I’ll find the strength to carry on,
So let your spirit shine along the way,
And our day will surely come,
Yet the heartache and pain linger on,
They’re still here though its so long since you’ve gone,
But we’re stronger now, you showed us how,
Freedom’s fight can be won, if we all stand as one.
Have you ever walked the lonesome hills
And heard the curlews cry
Or seen the raven black as night
Upon a windswept sky
To walk the purple heather
And hear the westwind 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
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 known 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 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
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
