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Seo
dhibh, a cháirde, duan oglaigh,
Caithréimeach, bríoghmhar, ceolmhar,
Ár dtinte cnámh go buacach táid,
'S an spéir go mín réaltógach.
Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo,
'S go tiúnmhar glé roimh tigheacht do'n ló,
Fa ciúnas chaoimh na h-oidhche ar seol,
Seo libh, canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá:
Sinne Fianna Fáil atá fá gheall ag Érinn,
Buidhean dár sluagh, tar túinn do ráinig chughainn:
Fámhóid bheith saor, sean-tír ár sinnsear
feasta Ní fágfar fa'n tiorán ná fa'n tráil;
Anocht a theigeamh sa bhearna baoghail,
Le gean ar Gaedhil chum báis nó saoghail,
Le gunna sgréac, fá lamhach na piléar
Seo libh, canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Cois
banta réidhe, ar árdaibh sléibhe
Ba bhuadhach ár sinnsear romhainn,
Ag lámhach go tréan fá'n sár bhrat séin
Tá thuas sa ghoith go seolta:
Ba dhuthchas riamh d'ár geine cháidh
Gan iompáil siar ó imirt áir,
'Suibhal mar iad i geoinnibh námhaid
Seo libh, canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá:
A
buidhean nach fann d'fuil Ghaiodheal is Gall
Sinn breacadh lac na saoirse,
Tá sgéimhle 's sgrannradh i geroidhthibh namhad,
Roimh ranngaibh laochra ár dtíre;
Ar dteinte is tréith gan spréach anois,
Sin luisne ghlé san spéir anoir,
'S an bíodhbha i raon na bpiléar agaibh:
Seo libh, can aidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá:
We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering rousing chorus,
An round our blazing fires we throng,
The starry heavens o'er us;
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning's light,
Here in the silence of the night,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
Chorus:
Soldiers are we, whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
Some have come from a land beyond the wave;
Sworn to be free, no more our ancient Ireland
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we'll man the bearna baoghail.*
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal,
'Mid cannon's roar and rifle's peal,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
In
valley green or towering crag
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag
That's proudly floating o'er us,
We're children of a fighting race
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march the foe to face,
We'll chant a soldier's song.
Chorus
Sons
of the Gael, men of the Pale,
The long watched day is breaking;
The serried hosts of Innisfail
Shall set the tyrant quaking;
Our camp fires now are burning low;
See, in the east a silv'ry glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier's song.
Chorus
*
the gap of danger |