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 foreman'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."