Bitter the tears that sparkled in thy eyes,
Sudden the cry of freedom thrills the city,
Brave hearts beat high, thy children round thee rise;
'Mid shot and shell, where flaming cannon thunder,
From out that hell we hear their battle-cry:
"Sinn Fein Amain!" Thy sons salute thee, Eire!
See! Freedom's dawn is flushing in the skies!
Dark Rosaleen, thy trampled flag, we swear it,
Shall lift its sheen triumphant in the sun!
Thy galling chain, our gallant sword shall save her,