O Connell s Lamentation

O'Connell's Lamentation
Was worthy of a dozen Crusades
To the Holy Land's sands...
His children's salvation:
Bailed! And every thought in his mind, though kind,
Made him almost blind...

[Припев]
Almost free!
And almost home!
Almost done, but also almost gone...
Yet the darkness prevails
On the Green Shores and waves...
His voice grew faint,
His words were overcome by injustice...
We, his children, were almost saved...


Despite Emancipation
He had to journey to Pope
As a pilgrim on a simple weary road...
Arriving in Rome
He has left his heart beneath the dome,
And blessed its new home.
To remain...

[Припев]
Tara's harp
Was playing loud
Awaking towns
And millions in the crowd.
From the prison be freed,
From the poisonous greed...
My body — if they want it so —
Let Dublin have its own.
My soul I've saved already...
My soul...

Voices of pain
Poured like a rain
And every harp in Ireland answered them.
Then every harp in the world
Took up his lament, like a sword...
And this future song will lead us, brother,
To our freedom,
But for now: let us mourn.

For this grief is worth...
Worth a golden horse
In the sands of Holy Lands,
For we, the children,
Now we are almost saved.

[Кульминация]
And this future song
Will lead us, brother,
To our sweetest freedom,
But for now...
But for now: let us mourn.