The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him,
His father's sword he has 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 harp shall praise thee!"
The minstrel fell!--but the foeman's chain
Could not bring his proud soul under,
The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again,
For he tore its cords asunder;
And said, "No chains shall sully thee,
"Thou soul of love and bravery!
"Thy songs we're made for the pure and free
"They shall never sound in slavery."