The Minstrel Boy- to the war has 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- never spoke again，
for he tore it's chords- a-sunder.
评论：
作者: I’d say there’s no way in hero.
Nobody asks to be a hero.
It just sometimes turns out that way.
