| Irish version | IPA transcription | English version |
|---|---|---|
| Sinne Fianna Fáil,[fn 1] atá faoi[fn 2] gheall ag Éirinn, Buíon dár slua thar toinn do ráinig chugainn, Faoi mhóid bheith saor Seantír ár sinsear feasta, Ní fhágfar faoin tíorán ná faoin tráill. Anocht a théam sa bhearna bhaoil, Le gean ar Ghaeil, chun báis nó saoil,[fn 3] Le gunna-scréach faoi lámhach na bpiléar, Seo libh canaig’[fn 4] amhrán na bhFiann. | [ˈʃɪ.n̠ʲə ˈfʲi(ə).n̪ˠə ˈfˠɑːlʲ] [ə.ˈt̪ˠɑː f(ʷ)ˠiː ˈjal̪ˠ ɛɟ ˈeː.ɾʲən̠ʲ] [ˈb(ʷ)ˠiːnˠ ˈd̪ˠɑːɾˠ ˈsˠl̪ˠu(ə)] [haɾˠ ˈt̪(ʷ)ˠiːn̠ʲ d̪ˠɔ ˈɾˠɑː.nʲɪɟ ˈxuː(ɡə)nʲ] [ˈf(ʷ)ˠiː ˈvˠoːdʲ vʲɛ ˈsˠeːɾˠ] [ʃanˠ.ˈtʲiːɾʲ ɑːɾˠ ˈʃiːn̠ʲ.ʃəɾˠ ˈfʲasˠ.t̪ˠə] [n̠ʲiː ˈɑːk.ˈ(f)ˠəɾˠ f(ʷ)ˠiːnʲ ˈtʲiː.ɾˠɑːn̪ˠ ˈn̪ˠɑː f(ʷ)ˠiːnʲ ˈt̪ˠɾˠɑːlʲ] [ə.ˈn̪ˠɔxt̪ˠ ə ˈheːmˠ sˠə ˈvʲɑːɾˠ.n̪ˠə ˈv(ʷ)ˠeːlʲ] [lʲɛ ˈɟanˠ ɛɾʲ ˈɣ(ʷ)eːlʲ xʊnˠ ˈb(ʷ)ˠɑːʃ n̪ˠoː ˈsˠeːlʲ] [lʲɛ ˈɡʊ.n̪ˠə ˈʃcɾʲeːx f(ʷ)ˠiː ˈl̪ˠɑː.wəx nˠə bʲi.ˈlʲeːɾˠ] [ʃɔ lʲɪvʲ ˈkɑ.n̪ˠɪɟ əu.ˈɾˠaːn̪ˠ n̪ˠə ˈvʲi(ə)n̪ˠ] | 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. Tonight we man the bearna bhaoil,[fn 5] In Erin’s cause, come woe or weal, ‘Mid cannons’ roar and rifles’ peal, We’ll chant a soldier’s song. |
Original verses
| Irish version | English version |
|---|---|
| I Seo dhíbh, a chairde, duan Ógláigh Caithréimeach 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 don ló Fé chiúnas chaomh na hoíche ar seol Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann. Curfá II Cois bánta réidhe, ar ardaibh sléibhe Ba bhuadhach ár sinsir romhainn Ag lámhach go tréan fén sárbhrat séin ‘Tá thuas sa ghaoth go seolta Ba dhúchas riamh dár gcine cháidh Gan iompáil siar ó imirt áir ‘S ag siúl mar iad i gcoinne námhad Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann Curfá III A bhuíon nach fann d’fhuil Ghaeil is Gall Sin breacadh lae na saoirse Tá sceimhle ‘s scanradh i gcroíthe námhad Roimh ranna laochra ár dtíre Ár dtinte is tréith gan spréach anois Sin luisne ghlé sa spéir anoir ‘S an bíobha i raon na bpiléar agaibh Seo libh, canaídh Amhrán na bhFiann Curfá | I 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 II 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 III 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 silv’ry glow Out yonder waits the Saxon foe So chant a soldier’s song Chorus |