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