Roisín Dubh, Roisín Dubh Ag caoineadh arís Though your fields all in bloom And your rivers still run free
And your sons, fine strong sons Keep strangers at bay Still you cry, Rosaleen And softly say...
My heart breaks to see the young brought to their knees Breaks to see my lands in slavery
I must go, I seek a land that's fair and free I can never call this home again
(Fill! Fill! Fill! A rún-o!) (Fill a rún-o is ná h-imigh uaim arís)
Well her sons had sons, but alas, there were some Not so rich nor so strong as their fathers before They surrendered land, were denied regrant Black Rent has bloomed once more
Rosaleen, mo chuisle, close your weary eyes Take my hand and fly We'll awake far and free from a chéad a mhíle lies We can never call this home again
Níl aon marthanóirí í shúila an tígre Thit do mhacra, na chruba marfach faoi Agus tú ró reámhsealbhaithe leis na stríoca!
(Tá ár nduiche Caillte againn go deo Go deo! Go deo!)
Rosaleen, mo chuisle, close your weary eyes Take my hand and fly We'll awake far and free from a chéad a mhíle lies We can never call this home again
(Nuair a leigheastar an pian den galar de hocht gcead bliain Tháinig dúinn an ailse, gcuid sé do chroi)
We'll awake far and free from a chéad a mhíle lies We can never call this home again