The thistles and the shamrocks
Are blowing in the wind
We hear them whisper gently
Through the valleys and the glens

The voices of the fairies
And the ghosts of battles won
Still echo through the vale
Of Tuatha Dé Danann

The Sun it'll rise the Sun it'll rise
The Sun it'll rise in the morning
Take my hand, and hold it tight
Akin we'll make it through the night
And the Sun it'll rise in the morning

Our feet they may be weary
But our sprit's never weak
For the tales of Tír na nóg
Help to put our minds at ease

Like wind that shakes the barley
Soldiers shiver in the cold
So we'll put our weapons down
Then we'll dance upon the road

The Sun it'll rise the Sun it'll rise
The Sun it'll rise in the morning
Take my hand, and hold it tight
Akin we'll make it through the night
And the Sun it'll rise in the morning

The night is almost over
And the army's drawing near
Our war cry it gets louder

For to cripple them with fear
No weapons do we carry
Just our voices, pipes, and drums
Yet the enemy retreats
And the battle it is won

The Sun it'll rise the Sun it'll rise
The Sun it'll rise in the morning
Take my hand, and hold it tight
Akin we'll make it through the night
And the Sun it'll rise in the morning

We are the chieftains
We are the Tír na nóg
We are sons and daughters of
Éirinn go Brách
We are Celtic Warriors
No enemy shall we meet
May the passion in our hearts
Ever be the Celtic Creed