Youngest Son Lyrics

Youngest Son lyrics

From: Derek Gross 
My youngest song came
home today
His friends marched with him all the way
The fife and drum
beat out the time
While in his box of polished pine
Like dead meat on a
butcher's tray
My youngest son came home today
My youngest son was a fine
young man
With a wife, a daughter and two sons
And a man he would have
lived and died
Till by a bullet sanctified
Now he's a saint or so they
say
They brought their young saint home today
An Irish sky looks down and
weeps
Upon the narrow Belfast streets
At children's blood in gutters
spilled
In dreams of glory unfulfilled
As part of freedom's price to
pay
My youngest son came home today
My youngest son came home
today
His friends marched with him all the way
The pipe and drum beat out
the time
While in his box of polished pine
Like dead meat on a butcher's
tray
My youngest son came home today
And this time he's here to
stay
Words and music by Eric Bogle
Appears on Billy Bragg's _The
Internationale_
and some album(s) of Eric Bogle's