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The Outlaw of the Hill

Alasdair Roberts of The Furrow Collective sang The Outlaw of the Hill on their 2014 album At Our Next Meeting. He commented in their sleeve notes:

A song about exploits of the Irish highwayman William ‘Willy’ Brennan, who was caught and hanged in County Cork in the early 19^th century. Sean Ó Sé, who learnt it from his father Con, recorded this with Peadar Ó Riada on their album Dir Cum Thola Is Cuil Aodha. The words are based on a set by Michael Hogan, “Bard of Thomond” (1828-1899), featured in the collection Lays and Legends of Thomond (1861, p. 260-1). The song attracted me for its grand old melody and its air of defiance!

Lyrics

The Outlaw of the Hill in Lays and Legends of Thomond

Air — There’s Whiskey in the Jar

* When Brennan lay in Clonmel jail pending his execution, he was visited by many great people out of curiosity. Among the rest came a bankrupt Banker. “Oh, Brennan,” said he, “I’m proud to see, you here!” “You ought not,” replied Brennan, “for when the world refused your notes I took them!”

Tho’ this cold gloomy cell is my dwelling of sorrow,
’Till the gallows and rope liberate me to-morrow;
I fear not death’s coming — I sigh not with sadness,
But, Molly, your treachery drives me to madness!
Oh! false-hearted Molly!
Your treason and folly
Have slain the undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

I loved Erin’s land as a child loves its mother,
But now I must die by the laws of another;
Yet on Kilworth’s proud hill were those law-makers by me,
Oh! I’d give them a trial before they would try me!
And ’tis there I’d do my will,
And young Brennan would be still,
The dauntless and daring, young Outlaw of the Hill!

But the jail holds me fast, and the chains hold me faster,
And the black, detested hangman will soon be my master;
Farewell, my dear friends, if yet I may have any,
But my friends are too few and my enemies too many!
And forlorn here I pine,
’Till the fatal rope shall twine,
Round the neck of the dauntless, young Outlaw of the Hill!

Yet if Fate allow’d a chance—oh! one little chance only—
To free me once more on the hills wild and lonely;
Whether on the Galtees’ side or the plains of Kilfinnane,
Oh! then they’d catch the winds ere they catch Captain Brennan!
And no woman e’er would bring
The law-hounds of a king,
To chase the bold, undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

I trampled the laws that my country infected,
I plundered the rich, but the poor I respected;
I reign’d, like a king, spurning foeman and malice,
And the hill was my throne and the greenwood my palace!
And my law was my word,
And my fortune my sword,
And freedom was my kingdom in the dark shades of the Hill!

Ye friendly glens and mountains whose fond bosoms woo’d me,
To shelter and rest when the bloodhounds pursued me;
Oh! never again in your wild shades I’ll wander,
With my blunderbuss primed and my purse filled with plunder!
Farewell! dear shades, farewell!
In other days you’ll tell
Wild tales of the daring young Outlaw of the Hill!

The merchant and the lord I deprived of their treasure,
And sat on the dark heath to count it, at leisure;
But my hand to the weak, in pity was extended,
And the poor man, in his need, I have always befriended!
And never before God,
Has a drop of human blood
Stain’d the hand of the daring, young Outlaw of the Hill!

Oh! many a day have the red soldiers chased me,
And in vain to the depths of the mountain glens traced me;
Their swiftest I outstripp’d on the morass and common,
’Till at last I was betrayed by a false-hearted woman!
But shame shall mark her head,
When silent, with the dead,
Lies the brave and undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

Alasdair Roberts sings The Outlaw of the Hill

Tho’ this cold gloomy cell be my dwelling of sorrow,
’Till the gallows and the rope liberate me to-morrow;
Still I fear not death coming nor I sigh not in sadness,
But, Molly, thy treachery drives me to madness!
O, false-hearted Molly!
Thy treason and thy folly
Have chained the undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

You lonely hills and mountains whose dark bosom woo’d me,
To shelter and to rest while the bloodhounds pursued me;
Never again by your green shades I’ll wander,
With my blunderbuss well primed and my purse filled with plunder!
Farewell, dear shades, farewell!
In other days you’ll tell
The wild tale of the undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

Well the jail holds me fast, and its chains hold me faster,
And the black, detested hangman will soon be my master.
Farewell then, my dear friends, though if I then have any;
My friends they are few and my enemies are many!
And forlorn here I pine,
’Till the fatal rope shall twine,
Round the neck of the undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

I trampled the laws which my country infected,
I plundered the rich, but the poor I respected;
I reigned a bold king, spurning foeman and malice,
The hill were my throne and the green shades my palace!
And my law was my word,
And fortune was my sword,
And freedom was the kingdom of the Outlaw of the Hill!

Well, many’s the day when the red soldiers chased me,
And into the depths of the mountains they traced me.
Their quickest I’ve outstepped through the moors and the commons,
Till I was betrayed by that false-hearted woman!
But shame shall mark her head,
When numbered with the dead
Lay the daring and undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!

But fate holds a chance, one little chance only,
To free me again on those hills wild and lonely.
Whether on the Galtees’ side or the slopes of Kilfennon,
Oh! they’d catch the wild deer ere they catch Captain Brennan!
And no woman e’er shall bring
The bloodhounds of the king,
To chase the undaunted, young Outlaw of the Hill!