(no subject)
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone,
in the ranks of death you will find him.
His father's sword he hath 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, they 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 never 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!"
in the ranks of death you will find him.
His father's sword he hath 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, they 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 never 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!"