The minstrel boy
to the war has gone
In the ranks of death
you'll find him
His father's sword
he hath girded on
And his wild harp slung
is harp slung behind him
Land of Song!
cried the warrior bard
Tho' all the world betrays thee
One sword, at least
thy rights shall guard
One faithful harp
shall praise thee!
<Interlude>
The Minstrel fell!
But the foeman's chain
Could not bring
that proud soul under
The harp he lov'd
ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
And said No chains
shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Thy songs were made
for the pure and free
They shall never sound
in slavery!