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
" 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 his proud soul under
The harp he loved ne'er spoke again
For he tore its chords asunder
And said " No chains shall sully thee
Thou soul of love and brav'ry!
Your songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!