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