Ceanannas, Ceanannas Mór, Ceanannas, Leabhar Cheanannais
Fill súil nglais, fhéachas Éirinn tar a h-ais
Ni fheicfidh sí lena lá, fir Éireann ná a mná
When Colm Cille was a boy he dreamed a dream
He cast a silver hook into a golden stream
And dreaming 'mong the Holy Wells
He dreamed a book, he dreamed the Book of Kells
There are four corners to my bed, there are four angels overhead
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, bless this bed I lay upon
And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take
My soul to take
Ceanannas, Ceanannas Mór, Ceanannas, Leabhar Cheanannais
Fill súil nglais, fhéachas Éirinn tar a h-ais
Ni fheicfidh sí lena lá, fir Éireann ná a mná
When Colm Cille was a man he made a prophecy
He saw a church full of hypocrisy
And sailed across the bitter sea, to lovely Scotland
Of the islands and bells, there he dreamed a dream
He dreamed the Book of Kells
There are four corners to my bed, there are four angels overhead
Matthew, Mark, Luke and John, bless this bed I lay upon
And if I die before I wake, I pray the Lord my soul to take
My soul to take
Ceanannas, Ceanannas Mór, Ceanannas, Leabhar Cheanannais
Fill súil nglais, fhéachas Éirinn tar a h-ais
Ni fheicfidh sí lena lá, fir Éireann ná a mná
