I.

O H ! proud were the chieftains of green Inis-Fail
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
The stars of our sky, and the salt of our soil;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
Their hearts were as soft as a child in the lap,
Yet they were “the men in the gap”—
And now that the cold clay their limbs doth enwrap;—
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!

II.

'Gainst England long battling, at length they went down;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
But they left their deep tracks on the road of renown,
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
We are heirs of their fame, if we're not of their race,—
And deadly and deep our disgrace,
If we live o'er their sepulchres, abject and base;—
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!

III.

Oh! sweet were the minstrels of kind Inis-Fail!
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
Whose music, nor ages nor sorrow can spoil;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh
But their sad stifled tones are like streams flowing hid,
Their caoine and their pioprachr were chid,
And their language, “that melts into music,” forbid;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!

IV.

How fair were the maidens of fair Inis-Fail!
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
As fresh and as free as the sea-breeze from soil,
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
Oh! are not our maidens as fair and as pure?
Can our music no longer allure?
And can we but sob, as such wrongs we endure?
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!

V.

Their famous, their holy, their dear Inis-Fail!
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
Shall it still be a prey for the stranger to spoil?
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
Sure, brave men would labour by night and by day
To banish that stranger away;
Or, dying for Ireland, the future would say
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!

VI.

Oh! shame—for unchanged is the face of our isle;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
That taught them to battle, to sing, and to smile;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!
We are heirs of their rivers, their sea, and their land,—
Our sky and our mountains as grand—
We are heirs—oh! we're not—of their heart and their hand;
As truagh gan oidhir 'n-a bh-farradh!