My Youngest Son Came Home Today

Chorus:

My youngest son came home today
His friends marched with him all the way
The pipes and drums beat out the time
As in his box of polished pine
Like dead meat on a butcher's tray
My youngest son came home today.

I

My youngest son was a fine young man
With a wife, a daughter, and two sons
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 saint home today.

II

Above the narrow Belfast streets
An Irish sky looks down and weeps
On childrens' blood in gutters spilled
In dreams of freedom unfilled
As part of freedoms price to pay
My youngest son home today.

Chorus:

My youngest son came home today
His friends marched with him all the way
The pipes and drums beat out the time
As in his box of polished pine
Like dead meat on a butcher's tray
My youngest son came home today.

Last Chorus:

My youngest son came home today
His friends marched with him all the way
The pipes and drums beat out the time
As 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 home to stay.

(Eric Bogle)

 
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