The minstrel boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you will find him;
His father’s sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind 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 foeman’s chain
Could not bring that proud soul under;
The harp he loved 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!”
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Will S.
May 1, 2016 at 9:57 am
Psalm 137
1 By the rivers of Babylon, there we sat down,
yea, we wept, when we remembered Zion.
2 We hanged our harps upon the willows in the midst thereof.
3 For there they that carried us away captive required of us a song;
and they that wasted us required of us mirth,
saying, Sing us one of the songs of Zion.
4 How shall we sing the Lord’s song in a strange land?
feeriker
May 3, 2016 at 12:25 am
I love John McDermott’s rendition of this:
Will S.
May 3, 2016 at 1:56 am
Excellent. My parents have some John McDermott CDs; and I, too, enjoy his singing.
feeriker
May 3, 2016 at 10:37 am
The Irish Tenors as a trio have a version of this (live in Dublin) also available on YouTube, but somehow it just doesn’t pack the emotional punch of McDermott’s solo version.