We were young and were broad-shouldered
Insolent, happy and funny bandits
We were expecting death would almost touch us
On the road again
on the road again
In the morning we left Ireland
And, behind us, the land lit up
It very well had to happen that one day we would be hung
On the road again
The sea returns always to the shore
In the fields of ripe wheat there are wild flowers
Don't think about it anymore, you're passing through
We were young and broad-shouldered
We were expecting death would almost touch us
and it took us, the handsome ones and the funny ones
My friend, do you know that words of love
Travel poorly these days(aren't well-suited today)
You will leave even more depressed
On the road again
on the road again