Youngest Son Lyrics - Singles - Bragg Billy

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