Ó chaitheas-sa seal i measc na bPoncán,
Ag codailt amuigh faoi chrann mo dhóchais,
Ag réabadh fallaí a thóg m'athair romham
Idir é is an doicheall i bhfuinneoga a súl.
Thugadar go fial dúinn
A raibh acu le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile in Éirinn'.
Is chuas ina dhiaidh sin go Londain groí,
Mo dhá láimh liom is mé liom féin,
Dá mbeinnse céad bliain ag doras Sheáin bhuí,
Ní bhfaighinn bheith istigh i ngar dá chroí.
Sea thugadar go fial dúinn
A raibh acu le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile in Éirinn'.
Is bhíos ag an deireadh i ndeireadh an domhain,
Ag luí béal faoi i bpoll an uaignis,
Ag scríobadh na cré i dtrinse rómhór,
A bhí chomh cúng le huaigh mo linbh.
Sea thugadar go fial dúinn
A raibh acu le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile in Éirinn'.
Is bhíos-sa lá i dTír na nDall,
Ag iarraidh dídin' ó racht na farraige;
Ní bhfuaireas-sa ann ach airgead ag méileach
Is fliuchadh mo bhéil de mo dheora féin.
Thugamar go fial dóibh
A raibh againn le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile as Éirinn.
Sea téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile as Éirinn'.
The Stick and the Road
I did my time in America,
Sleeping rough under the tree of hope,
Tearing down walls my father had built
Between him and the hatred he saw in their eyes.
They gave us all that they had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever in Ireland'.
Then I went over to London town,
All on my own and nothing to show for it;
If I stayed for a hundred years at their door,
They'd never let me in any closer to their hearts.
They gave us all that they had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever in Ireland'.
I ended up then at the ends of the world,
Lying face down in the pit of loneliness,
Scratching the earth in the bottom of a trench,
That was narrow as the grave where my child was buried.
They gave us all that they had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever in Ireland'.
Finally I landed in the land of the blind,
Looking for shelter from the angry sea;
All that I found was the bleating of money
And my own tears to cure my thirst.
We gave them all that we had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever away from Ireland;
Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever away from Ireland'.
Ag codailt amuigh faoi chrann mo dhóchais,
Ag réabadh fallaí a thóg m'athair romham
Idir é is an doicheall i bhfuinneoga a súl.
Thugadar go fial dúinn
A raibh acu le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile in Éirinn'.
Is chuas ina dhiaidh sin go Londain groí,
Mo dhá láimh liom is mé liom féin,
Dá mbeinnse céad bliain ag doras Sheáin bhuí,
Ní bhfaighinn bheith istigh i ngar dá chroí.
Sea thugadar go fial dúinn
A raibh acu le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile in Éirinn'.
Is bhíos ag an deireadh i ndeireadh an domhain,
Ag luí béal faoi i bpoll an uaignis,
Ag scríobadh na cré i dtrinse rómhór,
A bhí chomh cúng le huaigh mo linbh.
Sea thugadar go fial dúinn
A raibh acu le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile in Éirinn'.
Is bhíos-sa lá i dTír na nDall,
Ag iarraidh dídin' ó racht na farraige;
Ní bhfuaireas-sa ann ach airgead ag méileach
Is fliuchadh mo bhéil de mo dheora féin.
Thugamar go fial dóibh
A raibh againn le tabhairt,
Bata is bóthar is fonn abhaile:
'Téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile as Éirinn.
Sea téir abhaile go hIfreann
Is fan sa bhaile as Éirinn'.
The Stick and the Road
I did my time in America,
Sleeping rough under the tree of hope,
Tearing down walls my father had built
Between him and the hatred he saw in their eyes.
They gave us all that they had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever in Ireland'.
Then I went over to London town,
All on my own and nothing to show for it;
If I stayed for a hundred years at their door,
They'd never let me in any closer to their hearts.
They gave us all that they had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever in Ireland'.
I ended up then at the ends of the world,
Lying face down in the pit of loneliness,
Scratching the earth in the bottom of a trench,
That was narrow as the grave where my child was buried.
They gave us all that they had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever in Ireland'.
Finally I landed in the land of the blind,
Looking for shelter from the angry sea;
All that I found was the bleating of money
And my own tears to cure my thirst.
We gave them all that we had to give,
The stick and the road and a longing for home:
'Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever away from Ireland;
Go back to the hell that you came from
And stay there forever away from Ireland'.