PLEASE STAND for a discussion of the national anthem. It seems clear that we’re in the opening bars of a chorus that will eventually lead to its being silenced. By what, and through what process, remains to be seen, but the momentum, the flow of history, is against it.

It is also out of copyright next year, 70 years after the death of its lyricist, Peadar Kearney. Actually, only the original English-language copyright is held, curiously, by the Department of Finance. It has held the copyright, said Minister for Finance Michael Noonan on Wednesday, in order to prevent its being performed “in an inappropriate context and without due deference, such as to render it an object of scorn or derision”.

At which moment the nation had a collective flashback to the lights coming up at a thousand parish discos. (Which is why you felt a sudden and inexplicable yearning for curried chips at about 2.30pm on Wednesday.) The copyright issue is reported to be a further rationale for a replacement anthem, one we can again own and debase only in a way considered appropriate by the State. It would be interesting to see what will happen once that becomes a reality, because it is one thing to be wishy-washy about the national anthem but another to wash it away.

Amhrán na bhFiannwill survive for some time yet for a few reasons. First, the generations on whose experience and sentiment (and quickly formed myths) it was founded are only now gone. The resonance still rings for some, if weakly.

Second, that it is sung in Irish has helped it, because to a largely-English speaking population it sounds less anachronistic in a language they only half understand. Surely, many people believe that the lyrics of Amhrán na bhFiannbegin with four familiar lines, then descend into a bit that anyone can kind of murmur along to, then a rousing crescendo, with the final words handily drowned out by crowd cheers.

And, finally, it will survive because no government – even one that might like to get Fianna Fáil's name out of the first line – will want to be responsible for another Ireland's Call. Phil Coulter's alternative anthem is in debt to the earnestness with which the Irish rugby players have sung it. It hasn't been unusual to see one or two of them cry during its rendition. Previously, the tears were from the embarrassed laughter of the supporters, so that humour rather than passion infused the Lansdowne gale.

It is treated with more dignity these days even if few truly buy into it, so that, at rugby matches at least, neither anthem is belted out with the fervour delivered by the Welsh ( Land of My Fathers) or, particularly, the French.

How good is La Marseillaise? In Paris the Irish supporters hum along almost as loudly as they do to their own. It is infectious, riotous. It is a surprise the Irish team don't join in too.

But Ireland's Callpoints up the other problems a new anthem's writer will have. The language, for instance, will be an issue. For the lyrics to be in anything other than Irish will be seen as politically, and culturally, off key. Besides, while it works for pop, rock, folk and lots of other genres, English in an anthem can go the way of English in an opera and just sound too bombastic, too silly. If you're going to be passionate, patriotic, roused, it's oddly easier to do it when singing lyrics you don't fully understand. Besides, given modern sensitivities, its need for unity and inclusiveness is almost guaranteed to deliver us a Eurovision entry that could just as easily be matched with a 19-year-old Latvian girl band.

And there will an issue with the tune. Patrick Heeney’s composition is sometimes described as a dirge, but I don’t mind it so much. It’s four minutes shorter than most South American anthems, has that cheering bit at the end and is easily hummable.

Russia’s experience serves as a warning. It changed its anthem in 1990 to a new, lyric-free tune, but went back to the old song, with altered lyrics, in 2000. But the new lyrics have references to God and glory and – gulp – fatherland and pretty much everything, except blood and fighting, that we will want to steer clear of.

So perhaps Ireland should keep the tune and scrap the lyrics altogether. But then we would truly have a Eurovision entry of la-la-las and do-do-dos. Although, whenever we do get around to writing a new anthem, much of the conversation will be around the don’t-don’t-don’ts.

shegarty@irishtimes.com, twitter.com/shanehegarty