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