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THE MINSTREL BOY - by Thomas Moore
G Em Bm C
3 4 -4 -5 5 -4 4 5 6 7
The minstrel bo-y to the war is gone,
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-7 7 -6 6 5 -5 6 5 -4 4
In the ranks of de-ath yo-u'll find him;
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3 4 -4 -5 5 -4 4 5 6 7
His father's swo-rd he hath girded on,
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And his wild harp slu-ng be - hind him;
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7 -7 -6 -7 7 -7 -6 6
"Land of Song!" cried the war-rior bard,
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"Tho' all the world be-tra-ys thee,
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One sword, at le-ast, th-y rights shall guard,
G Rm Am G
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O-ne faithful ha-rp sha-ll praise thee!"
The Minstrel fell! But the foeman's steel
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!
