The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you'll find him


His father's sword he hath girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him


"Land of Song!" cried the warrior bard,
(Should) "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 that 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 bravery!

Thy songs were made for the pure and free

They shall never sound in slavery!