Hut

In some British schools, the following song was sung to this air several years ago:

LATE and early, brawny and burly,
There at his anvil the blacksmith stands,
Never tiring by strength inspiring,
Manfully toiling with eager hands.
List to the clamour of his busy hammer,
Mark the sparks that upward fly like showers of falling rain:
Hear him singing as his sledge goes swinging
’Til the glowing iron rings again.

The Minstrel Boy

The Minstrel-Boy to the war is gone,
In the ranks of death you’ll find him;
His father’s sword he has girded on,
And his wild harp slung behind him.
“Land of song!” said the warrior-bard,
“Tho’ 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 lov’d 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.”

In the film The Man Who Would Be King (1975) the tune is set to the words of the following hymn by Reginald Heber (1783-1826), Bishop of Calcutta, and is sung by Dan Dravot as he goes to his death. In the original story by Rudyard Kipling (1888), the hymn is sung (without any indication of the tune) by Dan’s friend Peachey Carnehan right at the end of the tale as he is going mad, as if it has meant something to him for a long time.

THE Son of God goes forth to war,
a kingly crown to gain;
his blood red banner streams afar:
who follows in his train?
Who best can drink his cup of woe,
triumphant over pain,
who patient bears his cross below,
he follows in his train.

That martyr first [St Stephen], whose eagle eye
could pierce beyond the grave;
who saw his Master in the sky,
and called on him to save.
Like him, with pardon on his tongue,
in midst of mortal pain,
he prayed for them that did the wrong:
who follows in his train?

A glorious band [the Apostles], the chosen few
on whom the Spirit came;
twelve valiant saints, their hope they knew,
and mocked the cross and flame.
They met the tyrant’s brandished steel,
the lion’s gory mane;
they bowed their heads the death to feel:
who follows in their train?

A noble army, men and boys,
the matron and the maid,
around the Saviour’s throne rejoice,
in robes of light arrayed.
They climbed the steep ascent of heaven,
through peril, toil and pain;
O God, to us may grace be given,
to follow in their train.