Hear the Atlantic seethe and swell And hear the lonely chapel bell God save their souls and mind them well Tomas and Sean Conneeley Yesterday at half past four They pushed their currach from the shore One took the net while one took the oar The two fishermen Conneeley From Connor's fort and from Synge's chair Towards Inis Mor and Inis Iarr They scour the sea in silent prayer As they go searching for their neighbours Dia Diobh a beirt iascari brea Nach mbeidh ar ais ar barr an tra Go mbeidh sibh sona sasta ar neamh Tomas agus Sean O'Conghaile Draw the seaweed up the hill And sow potatoes in the drill Try to understand God's will And the loss of the two Conneeleys Hear the Atlantic seethe and swell And hear the lonely chapel bell God save their souls and mind them well Tomas and Sean Conneeley