[00:00.000] 作词 : Sir Alexander Boswell
[00:01.000] 作曲 : Ludwig van Beethoven
[00:11.21]The pulse of an Irishman ever beats quicker,
[00:13.45]whan war is the story, or love is the theme;
[00:16.08]and place him where bullets fly thicker and thicker,
[00:18.66]you'll find him all cowardice scorning.
[00:21.52]And tho' a ball should maim poor Darby,
[00:23.85]light at the heart he rallies on:
[00:26.26]"Fortune is cruel, but Norah, my jewel,
[00:28.99]is kind, and with smiling, all sorrow beguiling,
[00:31.74]shall bid from our cabin all care to be gone,
[00:33.85]and how they will jig it, and tug at the spigot,
[00:36.92]an Patrick's day in the mornin'."
[01:03.71]O blest by the land in the wide western waters,
[01:06.04]sweet Erin, lov'd Erin, the pride of my song;
[01:08.21]still brave be the sons, and still fair be the daughters
[01:11.08]thy meads and thy mountains adorning!
[01:13.46]And tho'  the eastern sun seems tardy,
[01:16.13]tho' the pure light of knowledge slow,
[01:18.57]night and delusion, and darkling confusion
[01:21.30]like mists from the river shall vanish for ever,
[01:23.85]and true Irish hearts with warm loyalty glow;
[01:26.19]and proud exaltation burst forth from the nation
[01:28.81]on Patrick's day in the mornin'.