The minstrel boy to the war has gone
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father’s sword he had girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him;
"Land of Song!" said the warrior bard
"Tho’ all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard
One faithful heart 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 its chords asunder;
And said: "No chain shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and bravery!
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!"