| Amhrán na bhFiann |
Soldier's Song |
| Seo dhibh a cháirde duan Óglaigh,
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We'll sing song, a soldier's song,
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Cathréimeach briomhar ceolmhar,
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With cheering rousing chorus,
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Ár dtinte cnámh go buacach táid,
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As round our blazing fires we throng,
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'S an spéir go min réaltogach
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The starry heavens o'er us;
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Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo
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Impatient for the coming fight,
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'S go tiúnmhar glé roimh thíocht do'n ló
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And as we wait the morning's light,
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Fé chiúnas chaomh na hoiche ar seol:
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Here in the silence of the night,
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Seo libh canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
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We'll chant a soldier's song.
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Curfá:
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Chorus:
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Sinne Firnna Fáil
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Soldiers are we
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A tá fé gheall ag Éirinn,
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whose lives are pledged to Ireland;
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buion dár slua
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Some have come
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Thar toinn do ráinig chugainn,
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from a land beyond the wave.
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Fé mhóid bheith saor.
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Sworn to be free,
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Sean tír ár sinsir feasta
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No more our ancient sire land
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Ní fhagfar fé'n tiorán ná fe'/n tráil
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Shall shelter the despot or the slave.
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Anocht a théam sa bhearna bhaoil,
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Tonight we man the bearna bhaoil,
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Le gean ar Ghaeil chun báis nó saoil
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In Erin's cause, come woe or weal
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Le guna screach fé lámhach na bpiléar
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'Mid cannons' roar and rifles peal,
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Seo libh canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
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We'll chant a soldier's song.
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Cois bánta réidhe, ar árdaibh sléibhe,
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In valley green, on towering crag,
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Ba bhuachach ár sinsir romhainn,
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Our fathers fought before us,
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Ag lámhach go tréan fé'n sár-bhrat séin
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And conquered 'neath the same old flag
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Tá thuas sa ghaoith go seolta
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That's proudly floating o'er us.
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Ba dhúchas riamh d'ár gcine cháidh
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We're children of a fighting race,
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Gan iompáil siar ó imirt áir,
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That never yet has known disgrace,
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'S ag siúl mar iad i gcoinne námhad
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And as we march, the foe to face,
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Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
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We'll chant a soldier's song.
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Curfá:
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Chorus:
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A bhuíon nách fann d'fhuil Ghaeil is Gall,
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Sons of the Gael! Men of the Pale!
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Sin breacadh lae na saoirse,
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The long watched day is breaking;
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Ta scéimhle 's scanradh i gcroíthe namhad,
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The serried ranks of Inisfail
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Roimh ranna laochra ár dtire.
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Shall set the Tyrant quaking.
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Ár dtinte is tréith gan spréach anois,
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Our camp fires now are burning low;
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Sin luisne ghlé san spéir anoir,
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See in the east a silv'ry glow,
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'S an bíobha i raon na bpiléar agaibh:
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Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
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Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann.
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So chant a soldier's song.
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