Amhrán na bhFiann
Seo dhíbh, a chairde, duan óglaigh,
Cathréimeach, bríomar, ceolmhar,
Ar dtinte cnámh go buacach táid,
's an spéir go min réaltógach.
Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo,
'S go tiúnmhar glé roimh thíocht don ló,
Faoi chiúas caomh na hoíche ar seol,
Seo libh, canaig Amhrán na bhFiann.
Sinne laochra Fáil, a tá faoi gheallag Éireann,
Buion dár slua thar toinn do ráinig chugainn,
Faoi mhóid bheith saor.
Sean tír ár sinsear feasta,
Ní fhágfar faoin tíorán ná faoin thráill.
Anocht a théam sa bhear na baoil,
Le gean ar Ghaeil chun báis nó saoil,
Le guna scréach, faoi lámhach na bpiléar,
Seo libh canáig amhrán na bhFiann.
Cois bánta reidhe, ar arda sléibhe
Ba bhuach ár sinsear romhainn,
Ag lámhach go tréan fa'n sár-bhrat sein,
Atá thuas sa ghaoith go seolta:
Ba dhúchas riamh d'ar gcine cháidh
Gan iompáil siar ó imirt air,
'Siul libh canaig Amhrán na bhFiann.
A Bhuíon nach fann d'fhuil Gaeil is Gall,
Sinn breachadh lae na saoirse,
Tá scéimhle 's scanradh i gcroíthr namhad,
Roimh ranganna laochra ár dtíre;
Ar dtínte is tréith gan spréach anois,
Sin luisne ghlé san spéir anoir,
'S an bíobha i raon na bpiléar agaibh:
Seo libh, canaig Amhrán na bhFiann.
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The Soldier's Song
We'll sing a song, a soldier's song,
With cheering, rousing chorus,
As round the blazing fires we throng
The starry heavens o'er us,
Impatient for the coming fight,
And as we wait the morning light,
Here in the silence of the night,
We'll chant the Soldier's Song.
Soldier's 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 sireland,
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the 'bear na baoil',*
In Erin's cause, come woe or weal,
'Mid cannon's roar and rifles peal,
We'll sing a soldier's song.
In valley green, on towering crag,
Our fathers fought before us,
And conquered 'neath the same old flag that's
Proudly floating o'er us;
We're the children of a fighting race,
That never yet has known disgrace,
And as we march the foe to face,
We'll chant the Soldier's Song.
Sons of the Gael, men of the Pale,
The long watched day is breaking,
The serried ranks of Inishfail**
Shall set the tyrant quaking,
Our camp fires now are burning low -
See in the east the silvery glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
Then chant the Soldier's Song.
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