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Green Fields of France v1 Eric Bogle
in 3/4 time, a bittersweet waltz
Intro: .[G] . . . [G] . . . [C] . . . [Am] . . . [D] . . . [D] . . . [G] . . . [D] . . .
Well [G]how do you [Em]do young [C]Willie Mc-[Am]Bride,
Do you [D]mind if I [D7]sit here down [C]by your grave-[G]side,
And [G]rest for a [Em]while 'neath the [C]warm summer [Am]sun,
I've been [D]walking all [D7]day and [C]I'm nearly [G]done.
I [G]see by your [Em]gravestone you were [C]only nine-[Am]teen,
When you [D]joined the great [C]fallen in [G]19-[D7]16,
I [G]hope you died [Em]well and I [Am]hope you died clean,
Or young [D]Willie Mc-[D7]Bride was it [C]slow and ob-[G]scene.
[G]Did they [D]beat the drum [D7]slowly, did they [C]play the fife [G]lowly,
Did they [D]sound the dead [D7]march, as they [C]lowered you [D]down,
Did the [C]band play the last post and [G]chor-[Em]us,
Did the [G]pipes play the [C]Flowers of the [D7]For-[G]est.
Did you [G]leave ere a [Em]wife or a [C]sweetheart be-[Am]hind,
In [D]some faithful [D7]heart is your [C]memory en-[G]shrined,
Al-[G]though you [Em]died back in [C]nineteen six-[Am]teen,
In [D]that faithful [D7]heart are you fo-[C]rever nine[G]teen.
Or [G]are you a [Em]stranger without [C]even a [Am]name,
En-[D]closed in fo-[C]rever be-[G]hind a glass [D7]frame,
In an [G]old photo-[Em]graph all torn [Am]battered and stained,
And [D]faded to [D7]yellow in a [C]brown leather [G]frame.
[G]Did they [D]beat the drum [D7]slowly, did they [C]play the fife [G]lowly,
Did they [D]sound the dead [D7]march, as they [C]lowered you [D]down,
Did the [C]band play the last post and [G]chor-[Em]us,
Did the [G]pipes play the [C]Flowers of the [D7]For-[G]est.
The [G]sun now it [Em]shines on the [C]green fields of [Am]France,
There's a [D]warm summer [D7]breeze that makes the [C]red poppies [G]dance,
And [G]look how the [Em]sun shines from [C]under the [Am]clouds,
There's no [D]gas, no barbed [D7]wire, there's no [C]guns firing [G]now.
But [G]here in this [Em]graveyard it's [C]still "No Man's [Am]Land",
The [D]countless white [C]crosses stand [G]mute in the [D7]sand,
To [G]man's blind in-[Em]difference to [Am]his fellow man,
To a [D]whole gener-[D7]ation that were [C]butchered and [G]damned.
[G]Did they [D]beat the drum [D7]slowly, did they [C]play the fife [G]lowly,
Did they [D]sound the dead [D7]march, as they [C]lowered you [D]down,
Did the [C]band play the last post and [G]chor-[Em]us,
Did the [G]pipes play the [C]Flowers of the [D7]For-[G]est.
Ah, young [G]Willie Mc-[Em]Bride I can't [C]help wonder [Am]why,
Do [D]all those who [D7]lie here know [C]why did they [G]die,
And [G]did they be-[Em]lieve when they [C]answered the [Am]call,
Did they [D]really be-[D7]lieve that this [C]war would end [G]wars.
Well, the [G]sorrow, the [Em]suffering, the [C]glory, the [Am]pain,
The [D]killing and [C]dieing were [G]all done in [D7]vain,
For young [G]Willie Mc-[Em]Bride it all [Am]happened again,
And a-[D]gain, and a-[D7]gain, and a-[C]gain, and a-[G]gain.
[G]Did they [D]beat the drum [D7]slowly, did they [C]play the fife [G]lowly,
Did they [D]sound the dead [D7]march, as they [C]lowered you [D]down,
Did the [C]band play the last post and [G]chor-[Em]us,
Did the [G]pipes play the [C]Flowers of the [D7]For-[G]est.
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