Fúbún fúibh, a shluaigh Gaoidheal,
ní mhaireann aoinneach agaigh;
Goill ag comhroinn bhur gcríche;
re sluaigh síthe bhur samhail

Síol mBriain Bhanbha fá Mhurchadh
I gcunnradh do rígh Shacsan,
tugsad - 's is truagh an toirbheart -
druim re hoighreacht a n-athar

Ó Néill Oiligh is Eamhna
rí Teamhrach agus Tailtean,
tugsad ar iarlacht Uladh
ríoghacht go humhal aimhghlic

Fúbún fán ngunna ngallghlas,
fúbún fán slabhra mbuidhe,
fúbún fán gcúirt gan Bhéarla,
fúbún séana Mheic Mhuire.

A uaisle Inse sean Airt,
neamhmaith bhur gcéim ar gclaochlúdh
a shluaigh míthreórach meat,
ná habraidh feasta acht "faobhún"

Shame upon you, ye hosts of the Gael
trans., Douglas Hyde

Shame upon you, ye hosts of the Gael,
         For your own Innisfail has been taken,
And the Gall is dividing the emerald lands
          By your treacherous bands forsaken.

Clan Carthy of Munster from first unto last
          Have forsaken the past of their sires,
And they honour no longer the men that are gone,
          Or the song of the God-sent lyres.

The O'Briens of Banba whom Murrough led on,
          They are gone with the Saxon aggressor,
They have bartered their heirloom of ages away
          And forgotten to slay the oppressor.

The old race of Brian mac Yohy the stern
          With gallowglass, kern, and bonnacht
They are down on their knees, they are cringing today
          'Tis the way through the province of Connacht.

In the valleys of Leinster the valorous band
          Who lightened the land with their daring,
In Erin's dark hour now shift for themselves,
          The wolves are upon them and tearing.

And O'Neill, who is throned in Emania afar
          And gave kings unto Tara for ages,
For the earldom of Ulster has bartered, through fear,
          The kingdom of heroes and sages.

Alas for the sight! the O'Carrolls of Birr
          Swear homage in terror, sore fearing,
Not a man one may know for a man can be found
          On the emerald ground of Erin.

And O'Donnell the chieftain, the lion in fight,
          Who defended the right of Tirconnell,
(Ah! now may green Erin indeed go and droop!)
          He stoops with them—Manus O'Donnell!

Shame for the court where no English was spoke,
          Shame for the court of the stranger,
Shame for the gun in the foreigner's train,
          Shame for the chain of danger.

Ye faltering madmen, God pity your case!
          In the flame of disgrace ye are singeing.
Shame is the word of the bard and the saint,
          Shame for the faint and the cringing.