Seo dhibh a chaired duan Oglaigh,
Cathreimeach briomhar ceolmhar,
Ár dtinte cnámh go buacach táid,
‘S an spear go min realtogach
Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo
‘S go tiunmhar gle roimh thiocht do’n lo
Fe chiunas chaomh na hoiche ar seol:
Seo libh canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá:
Sinne Fianna Fáil
A tá fe gheall ag Eirinn,
Buion dár slua
Thar toinn do ráinig chughainn,
Fe mhoid bheith soar
Sean tir ár sinsir feasta
Ni fhagfar fe’n tiorán ná fe’n trail
Anocht a theam sa bhearna bhaoil,
Le gean ar Ghaeil chun báis no saoil
Le guna screech fe lámhach na bpilear
Seo libh canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Cois bánta reidhe, ar árdaibh sleibhe,
Ba bhuachach ár sinsir romhainn.
Ag lámhach go trean fe’n sár-bhrat sein
Ta thuas sa ghaoith go seolta
Ba dhuchas riamh d’ár gcine cháidh
Gan iompáil siar o imirt air,
‘S ag siul mar iad I gcoinne námhad
Seo libh, canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfa:
A bhuion nách fann d’fhuil Ghaeil is Gall,
Sin breacadh lae na saoirse,
Ta sceimhle ‘s scanradh I gcroithe namhad,
Roimh ranna laochra ár dtire.
Ár dtinte is treith gan spreach anois,
Sin luisne ghle san spear anoir,
‘S an biobha I raon na bpilear agaibh:
Seo libh, canaidh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá: |
We’ll sing a song, a soldier’s song,
With cheering rousing chorus,
As 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 sire land
Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
Tonight we man the gap of danger
In Erin’s cause, come woe or weal
‘Mid cannons’ roar and rifles peal,
We’ll chant 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 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 ranks of Inisfail
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: |