[00:00.000] 作词 : Sir Alexander Boswell
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Ludwig van Beethoven
[00:09.56]The pulse of an Irishman ever beats quicker,
[00:12.14]whan war is the story, or love is the theme;
[00:14.69]and place him where bullets fly thicker and thicker,
[00:17.39]you'll find him all cowardice scorning.
[00:19.80]And tho' a ball should maim poor Darby,
[00:22.48]light at the heart he rallies on:
[00:24.94]"Fortune is cruel, but Norah, my jewel,
[00:27.33]is kind, and with smiling, all sorrow beguiling,
[00:29.93]shall bid from our cabin all care to be gone,
[00:32.54]and how they will jig it, and tug at the spigot,
[00:35.38]an Patrick's day in the mornin'."
[01:02.20]O blest by the land in the wide western waters,
[01:04.59]sweet Erin, lov'd Erin, the pride of my song;
[01:06.81]still brave be the sons, and still fair be the daughters
[01:09.46]thy meads and thy mountains adorning!
[01:11.98]And tho'  the eastern sun seems tardy,
[01:14.75]tho' the pure light of knowledge slow,
[01:16.93]night and delusion, and darkling confusion
[01:19.70]like mists from the river shall vanish for ever,
[01:22.25]and true Irish hearts with warm loyalty glow;
[01:24.60]and proud exaltation burst forth from the nation
[01:27.52]on Patrick's day in the mornin'.