The Irish National
Anthem:
A Soldiers Song
Gaeilge:
Seo dhibh a cha/irde duan O/glaigh,
Cathre/imeach briomhar ceolmhar,
A/r dtinte cna/mh go buacach ta/id,
'S an spe/ir go min re/altogach
Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo
'S go tiu/nmhar gle/ roimh thi/ocht do'n lo/
Fe/ chiu/nas chaomh na hoiche ar seol:
Seo libh canai/dh Amhra/n na bhFiann
Curfa/:
Sinne Firnna Fa/il
A ta/ fe/ gheall ag E/irinn,
buion da/r slua
Thar toinn do ra/inig chugainn,
Fe/ mho/id bheith saor.
Sean ti/r a/r sinsir feasta
Ni/ fhagfar fe/'n tiora/n na/ fe'/n tra/il
Anocht a the/am sa bhearna bhaoil,
Le gean ar Ghaeil chun ba/is no/ saoil
Le guna screach fe/ la/mhach na bpile/ar
Seo libh canai/dh Amhra/n na bhFiann.
Cois ba/nta re/idhe, ar a/rdaibh sle/ibhe,
Ba bhuachach a/r sinsir romhainn,
Ag la/mhach go tre/an fe/'n sa/r-bhrat se/in
Ta/ thuas sa ghaoith go seolta
Ba dhu/chas riamh d'a/r gcine cha/idh
Gan iompa/il siar o/ imirt a/ir,
'S ag siu/l mar iad i gcoinne na/mhad
Seo libh, canai/dh Amhra/n na bhFiann
Curfa/
A bhui/on na/ch fann d'fhuil Ghaeil is Gall,
Sin breacadh lae na saoirse,
Ta sce/imhle 's scanradh i gcroi/the namhad,
Roimh ranna laochra a/r dtire.
A/r dtinte is tre/ith gan spre/ach anois,
Sin luisne ghle/ san spe/ir anoir,
'S an bi/obha i raon na bpile/ar agaibh:
Seo libh, canai/dh Amhra/n na bh Fiann.
Curfa/
English translation
We'll sing 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
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