The minstrel boy to the war is gone,

In the ranks of death you'll find him;

His fathers sword he has girded on,

And his wild harp slung behind him.

";Land of Song!"; said the warrior bard,

";Though all the world betrays thee,

One sword at least thy rights shall guard,

One faithful harp shall praise thee!";





The minstrel fell! - but the foeman's chain

Could not bring that proud soul under;

The harp he loved ne'er spoke again

For he tore is chords asunder;

And said ";No chains shall sully thee,

Thou soul of love and bravery!

Thy songs were made for the pure and free,

They shall never sound in slavery.";