Bánchnoic Éireann Óigh

Take a blessing from my heart to the land of my birth,
the fair Hills of Eire, O!
And to all that yet survive of Eibhear’s tribe on earth,
On the fair Hills of Eire, O!
In that land so delightful the wild thrush’s lay seems to pour a lament forth for Eire's decay
Alas ! alas ! why pine I a thousand miles away
From the fair Hills of Eire, !

The soil is rich and soft the air is mild and bland,
On the fair Hills of Eire, O !
Her barest rock is greener to me than this rude land
O ! the fair Hills of Eire.
Her woods are tall and straight, grove rising over grove ;
Trees flourish in her glens below, and on her heights above;
O, in heart and in soul, I shall ever, ever love The fair Hills of Eire, !

A noble tribe, moreover, are the now hapless Gael, On the fair hills of Eire, O !
A tribe in Battle’s hour unused to shrink or fail On the fair Hills of Eire, !
For this is my lament in bitterness outpoured,
To see them slain or scattered by the Saxon sword.
Oh, woe of woes, to see a foreign spoiler horde On the fair Hills of Eire, O !