"Outlaw Raparee" is a Irish folk song. A "rapparee" or "raparee" is a general term given to guerrilla fighters in Ireland from the 17th to 19th century. The original Irish rapparees were also known as "tories", which comes from "tóraidhe", meaning "pursuer". They fought on the Royalist side, harassing Parliamentarian soldiers. They caused a great deal of trouble and were an absolute nuisance to Parliament. Even after supposedly clearing out the countryside and wiping out hundreds of guerrillas, Henry Ireton's men were still getting plagued by them. They were finally eliminated as a threat in the early or mid 1650's. Most caught were sent to work forced labour in the Caribbean, but some managed to escape and go and fight for continental empires like France, Spain and Austria.
In later years, rapparees would fight on the Jacobite side, against William's army, armed with weapons most-likely stolen or confiscated from Protestant civilians. The rapparees were a considerable help to the Jacobite war effort. The famous rapparee "Galloping Hogan" guided Sir Patrick Sarsfield's cavalry raid that destroyed the Williamite siege train at Ballyneety, Limerick in 1690.
From then on, the term "rapparee" was given to any irregular soldier, highwayman or bandit in Ireland. This version was performed by Barleycorn.
Lyrics:
One, two, three, four
My spurs are rusted, my coat is rent, my plume is damp with rain
And the thistle down and the barley beard, are thick on my horse’s mane
But my rifle's as bright as my sweetheart's eye, my arm is strong and free
What care have I for your kings and laws, I'm an outlaw rapparee
Lift your glasses friends with mine and give your grasp to me
I'm England's foe, I'm Ireland's friend, I'm an outlaw rapparee
I’m an outlaw raparee
Hunted from out our father's home, pursued with steel and shot
And swift the warfare we must wage, or the gibbet be our lot
Hurrah, the war is welcome work, the huntеd outlaw knows
He steps into his country's love o'еr the corpses of his foes
Lift your glasses friends with mine and give your grasp to me
I'm England's foe, I'm Ireland's friend, I'm an outlaw rapparee
I’m an outlaw raparee
A mountain cavern is my home, high up in the crystal air
My bed is a limestone iron-ribbed, with the brown heath smelling fair
Let George or William only send, his troops to burn or shoot
We'll meet them all on equal ground, and we'll fight them foot to foot
Lift your glasses friends with mine and give your grasp to me
I'm England's foe, I'm Ireland's friend, I'm an outlaw rapparee
I’m an outlaw raparee
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