Young Ned Of The Hill - Live version Lyrics

Song	Young Ned Of The Hill - Live version
Artist	The Pogues
Album	Streams Of Whiskey: Live In Leysin, Switzerland 1991
Download	Image LRC TXT

	作词 : Kavana, Woods
	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

	zuo ci : Kavana, Woods
	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

	zuò cí : Kavana, Woods
	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

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