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Amhrán na bhFiann

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"Amhrán na bhFiann" (trans "A Soldier's Song") is the national anthem of the Republic of Ireland. With lyrics by Peadar Kearney and music by Kearney and Patrick Heeney it was first published in Irish Freedom in 1912 (though it was composed in 1907). The song was relatively unknown until it was sung at the General Post Office (GPO) during the Easter Rising of 1916, and afterwards in British internment camps. The song became the anthem in 1926 when it replaced the unofficial anthem God Save Ireland. God Save the King served as the anthem of the United Kingdom of Great Britain and Ireland until the independent Irish Free State was established in 1922. (A minority continued to sing it until the declaration of the Republic of Ireland in 1949.)

The anthem only consists of the Chorus, (beginning Sinne Fianna Fáil . . . to . . . Amhrán na bhFiann. below). The first four lines and the last four, played together, form the Irish 'Presidential Salute', played when Her Excellency the President of Ireland attends events.

In recent years, a number of Irish newspapers and columnists have proposed replacing Amhrán na bhFiann with a new Irish national anthem, arguing that the current wording is excessively violent and anti-British. Others have argued that the melody is difficult for bands to play (as Ireland regularly experiences at international sporting events, where either the entire song (not just chorus that is the actual anthem) is played, or the right part is played but at the wrong speed). A new sporting anthem, 'Ireland's Call' is now used at international rugby matches, because the Irish rugby team is drawn from the whole island, and is supported by nationalists and unionists. However it seems unlikely in the short term at least that Amhrán na bhFiann will be replaced as the National Anthem.

A MIDI file is at http://www.ireland-information.com/downloads/midi/amhrannabhfiann.mid


Seo dhibh a cháirde duan Oglaigh,
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.
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.
Chorus
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.
Chorus

Chorus:
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. 
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. 
Chorus 
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. 
Chorus