Slievenamon
Is oth liom féinig bualadh an lé úd
Do dhul ar Ghaeil bhochta is na céadta slad
Mar tá na méirligh ag déanamh game dinn
Á rá nach aon ní leo pike nó sleá
Níor tháinig ár major i dtús an lae chugainn
Is ní rabhamar féin ann i gcóir ná i gceart
Ach mar sheolfaí aoireacht bó gan aoire
Ar thaoth na gréine de Shliabh na mBan
Mo léan léir ar an dream gan éifeacht
Nár fhan le héirim is d'oíche stad
Go mhéadh dúiche Déiseach is Iarthar Éireann
Ag triall le chéile ón tír aneas
Bhéadh ár gcampaí déanta le fórsaí tréana
Bhéadh cúnamh Dé linn is an saol ar fad
Is ní dhíolfadh méirleach roimh theacht an aoire
Ar thaoth na gréine de Shliabh na mBan
Slievenamon
I feel sorry for myself hitting that old tune
To go for the poor Gaels and the hundreds of raids
As the bastards are playing games with us
Saying they don’t care about a pike or a spear
Our major didn’t show up at the start of the day
And we weren’t even there, not right or fair
But like herding cattle without a herder
On the sunny side of Slievenamon
My heart aches for the useless crowd
Who didn’t stick around for the fight at night
From the Déise and the West of Ireland
Coming together from the land down south
Our camps would be set up with the forces of strength
With God’s help and the whole wide world
And I wouldn’t sell out before the herder arrives
On the sunny side of Slievenamon