1.
Seo dhíbh, a chairde, duan ógláig,
Caithréimeach, bríoghmhar, ceólmhar,
Ár dteinte cnámh go buacach táid
’S an spéir go mín réaltógach.
Is fonnmhar faobharach sinn chun ghleo’,
’S go tionnmhar glé roimh thígheacht do’n ló
Fé chiúnas chaomh na h-oídhch’ ar seól;
Seo libh canaig abhrán na bhFian.
Chorus:
Sinn-ne Fianna Fáil atá fé gheall ag Éirinn
Buidhean d’ár slua thar tuínn do ráinig chúghainn
Fé mhóid bheith saor, Seanntír ár sinsear feasda
Ní fhágfar fé’n tíorán ná fé’n tráil.
Anocht a théigheam sa bhearna bhaoghail –
Pé olc maith é – le gean do Ghaedhil,
Le guna scréach fé lámhac na bpléar!
Seo libh canaig abhrán na bhFian.
2.
Cois bánta réidhe ar árdaibh sléi’
Ba bhuadhach ár sínsear rómhainn,
Ag lámhach go tréan fé’n sair bhrat séin
’Tá thuas sa ghaoith go seólta.
Ba dhúthchas riamh d’ár gcine cháidh
Gan úmpáil siar ó imirt áir
’S a’ siubhall mar iad i gcoinnibh námhad
Seo libh canaig abhrán na bhFian.
Chorus
3.
A bhuíghen nach fann d’fhuil Ghaoidhil is Ghall
Sin breaca lae na saoirse,
Tá sgeimhle ’s sgamhr’ ar dhraoithibh námhad
Roimh rangaibh laochr’ ár dtíre,
Ár dteínte ’s tréith gan spréach anois,
Sin luisne ghlé sa spéir anoir;
’S an bíobha (a)raon na bpléar agaibh
Seo libh canaig abhrán na bhFian.
Chorus
1.
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 sireland
Shall shelter the despot or the slave;
To-night we man the bearna bhaoghail
In Erin’s cause, come woe or weal,
’Mid cannons’ roar and rifles’ peal
We’ll chant a soldier’s song.
2.
In valley green, or 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
3.
Sons of the Gael, men of the Pale,
The long-watched day is breaking,
The serried ranks of Innisfail
Shall set the tyrant quaking.
Our camp-fires now are burning low,
See in the east a silvery glow,
Out yonder waits the Saxon foe,
So chant a soldier’s song.
Chorus