Annotation:Amhrán na bhFiann

The Irish national anthem, written by Peadar Kearney c. 1907.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.