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.";
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