Amhrán na bhFiann

Seo dhibh a cháirde duan Óglaigh,

Cathréimeach bríomhar ceolmhar,

Ár dtinte cnámh go buacach táid,

‘S an spéir go mín réaltógach

Is fonnmhar faobhrach sinn chun gleo

‘S go tiúnmhar glé roimh thíocht do’n ló

Fé chiúnas chaomh na hoiche ar seol:

‘Seo libh canai/dh Amhrán na bhFiann

Sinne Fianna Fáil

Atá fé gheall ag Éirinn,

buion dár slua

Thar toinn do ráinig chugainn,

Fé mhóid bheith saor.

Sean tír ár sinsear feasta

Ní fhágfar fé’n tiorán ná fé’n tráill

Anocht a théam sa bhearna bhaoil,

Le gean ar Ghaeil chun báis nó saoil

Le gunni scréach 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 bh Fiann.

The English translation:

We’ll sing a song, a soldier’s song,

with a cheering, rousing chorus,

as round our blazing fires we throng,

the starry heavens over us;

impatient for the coming fight,

and as we wait the morning’s light,

here in the silence of the night,

we’ll sing a soldier’s song.

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 “varna-bwail” (gap of danger)

In Erin’s cause, come woe or weal

’Mid cannons’ roar and rifles’ peal,

We’ll sing 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 sing a soldiers 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 campfires now are burning low;

See in the east a silv’ry glow,

Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,

So sing a soldier’s song!