The Minstrel Boy- to the war is gone
|
in the rank of death- you'll- find him
|
His father's sword- he has girded on
|
and his wild harp slung- be-hind him
|
|
"Land of Song" said the warrior Bard
|
"Though all the world betrays- thee,
|
one sword at least- thy- rights shall guard,
|
one- faithful harp- shall- praise thee"
|
|
|
The Minstrel fell- but the forman's chain
|
could not bring his proud- sail- under
|
The Harp he loved- ne'er spoke again
|
for he tore it's chords- a-sunder
|
|
And said "No chains shall- sully thee,
|
Thou soul of love and bravery.
|
Thy songs were made for the pure and the free,
|
They- shall never sound- in- slavery" <p align="center"><font size="3"><b><a href="index.htm"><u>
|
|
-----------------
|
The Minstrel Boy
|
| The Corrs |
