Seo dhibh a cháirde duan
Óglaigh,
Cathréimeach briomhar ceolmhar,
Ár dtinte cnámh go buacach
táid,
'S an spéir go min réaltogach
Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo
'S go tiúnmhar glé roimh thíocht
do'n ló
Fé chiúnas chaomh na hoiche ar
seol:
Seo libh canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
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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.
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Curfá:
Sinne Fianna Fáil
A tá fé gheall ag
Éirinn,
buion dár slua
Thar toinn do ráinig chugainn,
Fé mhóid bheith saor.
Sean tír ár sinsir feasta
Ní fhagfar fé'n tiorán ná
fé'n tráil
Anocht a théam sa bhearna bhaoil,
Le gean ar Ghaeil chun báis nó
saoil
Le guna screach fé lámhach na
bpiléar
Seo libh canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
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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.
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Cois bánta réidhe, ar árdaibh
sléibhe,
Ba bhuachach ár sinsir romhainn,
Ag lámhach go tréan fé'n
sár-bhrat séin
Tá thuas sa ghaoith go seolta
Ba dhúchas riamh d'ár gcine
cháidh
Gan iompáil siar ó imirt
áir,
'S ag siúl mar iad i gcoinne
námhad
Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá |
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 |
A bhuíon nách fann d'fhuil Ghaeil is
Gall,
Sin breacadh lae na saoirse,
Ta scéimhle 's scanradh i gcroíthe
namhad,
Roimh ranna laochra ár dtire.
Ár dtinte is tréith gan spréach
anois,
Sin luisne ghlé san spéir
anoir,
'S an bíobha i raon na bpiléar
agaibh:
Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
Curfá
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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 |