The Minstrel Boy - Wild Mountain Thyme

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 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.»