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 praise thee

The minstrel fell but the foeman's chain Could not bring that proud soul under The harp he lov'd ne'er spoke again For he tore its chords asunder

And said, No chains shall sully thee Thou soul of love and brav'ry Thy songs were made for the pure and free They shall never sound in slavery

Thomas Moore, 1813

Song version here