Author: Thomas Moore
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
“The land of song,” said the warrior bard,
“tho all the world betray thee
one sword at least thy ranks shall guard
one faithful harp shall praise thee”
The minstrel fell but the foreman’s chain
could not bring his proud sould under
the harp he loved never spoke again
for he tore it’s chords asunder
He said, “No chains shall sully thee.
The sould of love and bravery
Thy songs were made for the pure and free
They shall never sound in slavery!”
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