The song concerns Éamonn Ó Riain (Edmund Ryan), an Irish aristocrat who lived in County Tipperary from 1670 – 1724 and led a bandit or rapparee gang. Although there is no positive proof of Ryan's existence, he is mentioned in a pamphlet of 1694, in which he and four other raparee leaders called for the overthrow of William of Orange in favour of the Catholic James II.[1]
The background to Ryan's career was the confiscation of Irish Catholic land in the Act of Settlement 1652 after the Cromwellian conquest of Ireland when many dispossessed landowners became outlaws, known as "tories" or "rapparees". Their ranks were swelled after the Williamite War of 1689-91, when many of the defeated Catholic Jacobites turned to banditry. It is likely that Ryan himself served in the Jacobite army.
It is said that Ryan became a rapparee or outlaw after shooting a tax collector dead during a quarrel over the confiscation of a poor woman's cow. Various other stories are told in which Ó Riain plays the role of the rebel hero who battles authority in the mode of Robin Hood and countless others.
The song is usually sung in Irish, but various English versions are popular as well. Here is one:
Oh dark is the evening and silent the hour
Oh who is that minstrel by yon shady tower?
Whose harp is so tenderly touching with skill
Oh who could it be but young Ned of the Hill?
And he sings, "Lady love, will you come with me now?
Come and live merrily under the bough.
I'll pillow your head where the light fairies tread
If you will but wed with young Ned of the Hill.
Young Ned of the Hill has no castle or hall,
No bowmen or spearmen to come at his call.
But one little archer of exquisite skill
Has loosed a bright shaft for young Ned of the Hill.
It is hard to escape to this young lady's bower
For high is the castle and guarded the tower.
But where there's a will there's always a way
And young Eileen is gone with young Ned of the Hill.[2]
Other versions also highlight the failure of Ó Riain's countrymen to come to rally to his defense and more strongly emphasize that Ó Riain had been a man of wealth and influence. For example:
"Oh who is without
That with passionate shout
Keeps beating my bolted door?"
"I am Ned of the Hill
Forspent wet and chill
From long trudging marsh and moor."
"My love, fond and true
What else could I do
But shield you from wind and from weather?
When the shots fall like hail
They us both shall assail
And mayhap we shall die together."
"Through forest and through snow
Tired and hunted I go
In fear both from friend and from neighbor
My horses run wild
My acres untilled
And they all of them lost to my labor
But it grieves me far more
Than the loss of my store
That there's none who would shield me from danger
So my fate it must be
To fare eastward o'er sea
And languish amid the stranger"[2]
"Éamonn an Chnoic" has been recorded by countless artists in both English and Irish. Some versions, such as the "Young Ned of the Hill" recorded by The Pogues, adapt the lyrics to a fast-tempo song with only a passing similarity to the original folk song. Completely instrumental versions are also common. "Éamonn an Chnoic" is one of few contemporary Irish folk songs to which a harp can easily carry the tune.
Young Ned Of The Hill
The Pogues Lyrics
Jump to: Overall Meaning ↴ Line by Line Meaning ↴
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
Some of us have deemed to fight from Tipperary mountains high
Noble men with wills of iron who are not afraid to die
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 and his deeds are legends still
And murdered for blood money was young Ned of the hill
And you've robbed our homes and fortunes, even drove us from the 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
The Pogues' "Young Ned of the Hill" is a powerful song that talks about the history of Ireland and the struggles of its people against oppressors. The opening lines invoke a sense of isolation and loneliness that comes from walking through the lonesome hills, hearing the curlews cry, and seeing the ravens hovering in the sky. It sets the tone for the sense of loss and mourning that permeates throughout the song.
The song tells the story of the rapparees, a group of Irish guerrilla fighters who fought against English rule during the 17th and 18th centuries. The rapparees were noble men who were willing to die for their cause and fought with Gaelic honor held high. They were the descendants of the forefathers who were robbed of their land and birthright by the likes of Oliver Cromwell, whose name is cursed throughout the song. Even after being driven from their homeland, the Irish people never lost their love for Ireland, as long as there were men like young Ned of the Hill, who fought tirelessly for their country's freedom.
Line by Line Meaning
Have you ever walked the lonesome hills and heard the curlews cry?
Have you ever ventured into the desolate hills and heard the lonely call of the curlew bird?
Or seen the raven black as night upon a windswept sky?
Or witnessed the dark, feathered raven soaring through the gusty air against the night sky?
To walk the purple heather and hear the westwind cry
To stroll among the purplish flowers of the heather plant and hear the mournful whistling of the western wind
To know that's where the rapparee must die
To understand that this is the land where the guerrilla warrior, known as a rapparee, must face his fate
Since Cromwell pushed us westward to live our lowly lives
Since the controversial figure, Oliver Cromwell, drove us to the Western region to lead modest, unassuming lives
Some of us have deemed to fight from Tipperary mountains high
Some of us have chosen to rebel and wage a war from the elevated peaks of Tipperary
Noble men with wills of iron who are not afraid to die
Courageous men with resolute personalities who are unafraid of meeting their end
And who'll fight with Gaelic honor held on high
And who will battle valiantly while embracing the values and traditions of Gaelic culture
A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell, you who raped our Motherland
A damning curse to Briton's most brutal antagonists, Oliver Cromwell, who violated and pillaged our homeland
I hope you're rotting down in hell for the horrors that you sent
May you be suffering and decay in the depths of hell for the atrocities you unleashed
To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright
The birthright of our ill-fated ancestors, whom you deprived of their inherent privileges
"To hell or Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight
Your directive to send us to either hell or the Connacht region will boomerang upon you as you suffer in hell tonight
Of one such man I'd like to speak a rapparee by name and deed
Let me illustrate the story of a specific guerrilla warrior, known as a rapparee, with impressive actions and reputation
His family dispossessed and slaughtered they put a price upon his head
His family members were evicted and killed, forcing him to be hunted down and having a bounty on his head
His name is known in song and story and his deeds are legends still
His name and heroic acts are immortalized in songs and folklore and still inspire awe and admiration
And murdered for blood money was young Ned of the hill
Young Ned of the hill was assassinated for the sake of blood-stained financial gain
And you've robbed our homes and fortunes, even drove us from the land
You not only looted our residences and belongings but also dislodged us from our own property
You tried to break our spirit but you'll never understand
You aspired to crush our morale but will never comprehend the steadfastness in our hearts
The love of dear old Ireland that will forge an iron will
The loyalty and attachment we possess to Ireland's heritage reinforces our tenacity and determination
As long as there are gallant men like young Ned of the hill
As long as there are brave souls like the departed hero, Ned of the hill
A curse upon you Oliver Cromwell, you who raped our Motherland
A malediction to the infamous Oliver Cromwell, who desecrated our beloved homeland
I hope you're rotting down in hell for the horrors that you sent
May your body decay and suffer in the bowels of hell for your horrendous crimes
To our misfortunate forefathers whom you robbed of their birthright
To our ill-fated predecessors whom you stripped of their natural entitlements
"To hell or Connaught" may you burn in hell tonight
Your dire prediction to compel us to either hell or to the territory of Connacht will backfire and ensnare you in an inferno tonight
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group, Sony/ATV Music Publishing LLC
Written by: R. KAVANA, T. WOODS
Lyrics Licensed & Provided by LyricFind
@Loren_Vosser
My grandmother was a ferociously quiet little woman from Co. Meath born in 1900. If she was really upset with someone she declare 'May the curse of Cromwellian be on ye' otherwise go to hell. We knew to be quiet when Olivier Cromwell's name was brought up even my granda a grizzly bear of a man from Derry would hold his tongue.
Great song it has always brought chills to my spine. RIP Shane great singer and poet God rest ye son 🙏
@keithbentley6081
Aye, did she complain about the Vikings as well or the Barbary pirates?
@btwells72
Never fails. Every time I hear this song it gives me chills. "Noble men with wills of iron, who are not afraid to die."
@martinquigley6928
Who'll fight for Gaelic honor
@FinsaneLorist
HOW is 2010? Don't come to 2022 it's fucking madness
@darraghomalley1896
Jesus they were some band what a fucking song
@Hagen823
Finland salutes Ireland. If there is Hell, I sincerely hope Stalin and Cromwell are having quality time together.
@toxicedge8308
You do realise the winter war was just a continuation of the conflict Finland started by invading Russia in 1918, right?
@susannaviljanen1708
@@toxicedge8308 That conflict ended on the peace treaty of Tartu 1920.
@toxicedge8308
@@susannaviljanen1708 the treaty of Tartu was between the Soviets and Estonia, though.