The minstrel boy to the war has gone
In the ranks of death you will find him
His father's sword he has girded on
And his wild harp slung behind him
Land of song cried the warrior bard
Though all the world betrays thee
One sword at least they right shall guard
One faithful harp shall praise thee
The minstrel fell but the foeman's sword
Couldn't bring that proud soul under
The harp he loved never spoke again
For he tore it's chords asunder
And he said no chains shall sully thee
No restraints shall taint your bravery
Your songs were made for the young and free
They shall never sound in slavery
