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,
"Tho' all the world betrays thee,
One sword, at least, thy rights shall guard,
One faithful harp shall play thee!"
The Minstrel fell! But the three men's chains
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he wore ne'er played again,
For he tore its chords asunder;
And said "No chains shall sully thee,
Thou soul of love and purity!
Thy songs were made for the brave and free
They shall never sound in slavery!
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