Do you see the lights that pierce the night?
Here come the Canadian Army seeking the blood of the men
Who raised the sword to defend their homes
From the marauders who already possess the greater part.
Chorus:
Don't you hear the war cries rising on the wind
Or the beating of the battle drums calling through the woods?
They won't yield an inch or be moved any longer
Above the burial ground of their ancestors, a living people arises.
They came in the darkness like thieves in the night
They cared not one whit if women or children were killed
It's unlikely they expected the greeting they received
That they would be given a deep draught from their own bitter cup.
There was a tribe of islanders long ago exiled from their homes
Their lands stolen through knavery and their language suppressed.
But their seed grew in this land, of whom I am a descendant
Who won't countenance the injustice nor remain silent.
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Ar ais go dt� an pr�omhleathanach
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