Oh, bard of old whose harp was strung

To sing of knights and ladies fair

Thy songs are sweet and pure of soul

They charm the taverns everywhere

Thy songs of love, of war, of peace

Of joy, of sorrow, hope, and luck

Are still the same through many years

By generations on above

Oh, bard of old, thy songs are sung

By many a voice in many a land

They cheer the heart, they soothe the pain

In language all can understand

The world has changed but not thy song

The olden days remain unchanged

The knights are gone, the ladies fair

The tune of auld since rearranged

So sing on, bard of old, sing on

And let thy voice be heard afar

Thy songs are sweet and pure of soul

From Ireland to Zanzibar