[00:00.000] 作曲 : Traditional arranged by David Kincaid[00:03.693] Oh, not now for songs of a nation's wrongs,[00:07.664] Not the groans of starving labor;[00:11.587] Let the rifle ring and the bullet sing[00:15.081] To the clash of the flashing sabre![00:19.965] There are Irish ranks on the tented banks[00:23.607] Of Columbia's guarded ocean;[00:27.867] And an iron clank from flank to flank[00:30.999] Tells of armed men in motion.[00:49.868] And frank souls there clear true and bare[00:53.641] To all, as the steel beside them,[00:57.281] Can love or hate withe the strength of Fate,[01:01.056] Till the grave of the valiant hide them.[01:06.158] Each seems to be mailed Ard Righ,[01:09.518] Whose sword's avenging glory[01:13.441] Must light the fight and smite for Right,[01:16.988] Like Brian's in olden story![01:35.744] With pale affright and panic flight[01:39.380] Shall dastard Yankees base and hollow,[01:43.485] Hear a Celtic race, from their battle place,[01:46.932] Charge to the shout of "Faugh-a-ballaugh!"[01:51.800] By the sould above, by the land we love[01:55.436] Her tears bleeding patience[01:59.406] The sledge is wrought that shall smash to naught[02:02.806] The brazen liar of nations.[02:21.683] The Irish green shall again be seen[02:25.550] As our Irish fathers bore it,[02:29.319] A burning wind from the South behind,[02:32.823] And the Yankee rout before it![02:37.985] O'Neil's red hand shall purge the land-[02:41.307] Rain a fire on men and cattle,[02:45.139] Till the Lincoln snakes in their own cold lakes[02:48.738] Plunge from the blaze of battle.[03:07.524] The knaves that rest on Columbia's breast,[03:11.205] And the voice of true men stifle;[03:15.132] We'll exorcise from the rescued prize-[03:18.717] Our talisman, the rifle;[03:23.587] For a tyrant's life a bowie knife!-[03:27.173] Of Union knot dissolvers,[03:31.091] The best we ken are stalwart men,[03:34.621] Columbiads and revolvers![03:53.467] Whoe'er shall march by triumphal arch[03:57.152] Whoe'er may swell the slaughter,[04:01.040] Our drums shall roll from the Capitol[04:04.816] O'er Potomac's fateful water![04:09.528] Rise, bleeding ghosts, to the Lord of Hosts[04:12.982] For judgement final and solemn;[04:16.716] Your fanatic horde to the edge of the sword[04:20.684] Is doomed line, square, and column!