The minstrel boy to the war is gone, In the ranks of death ye 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, "Tho' all the world betray 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 his 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 bravery! Thy songs were made for the pure and free They shall never sound in slavery!"