The Unknown Soldier

C
Trumpets

[Intro] (Spoken)
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  More than fifty thousand names are
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 carved on Ypres' Menin gate
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  of soldiers who have no known 
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graves,   just their destiny and 
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date.
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Witness and last testament, name 
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and rank and regiment,
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is now all that survives from so 
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many squandered lives.
F      Gsus4 G


[Part 1]
C       Em           F       F
And for every name inscribed
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  the poor bereaved were left to 
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mourn,
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  the passing of each one who died
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with no white cross on tended 
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lawn.
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No place to go   to contemplate
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the sacrifice,   the wicked 
   C/E
waste,
   Dm                              
no footprint left to show where 
       G
once they trod
  F             G
Allegedly known unto [Interlude] 
god.

[Interlude]
C        C        G        G
Am       C/G      F        F

[Part 2]
     C      Em     F         G
From Ypres, Arras, Aisne and Somme,
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six unknown soldiers were 
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exhumed,
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a blindfold general picked one man
    G/B     Am Am/G              
and reverently  they brought him 
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home.
C         Em     F        G
Six black horses drew the hearse
Continúa después del anuncio
        C      G             
through silent London crowds   
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immersed,
   Dm                              
in deepest thought belief or 
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wishful prayer
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that this might be their own boy 
[Interlude] there.

[Interlude]
C        C/E      F        Gsus4 G
Am       Em       F        Gsus4 G

[Spoken]
    Am                         
The metal tyres on the carriage 
         Em
wheels, played the tuneless requiem,
    F                           
the sky as grey as bayonet steel 
  Am
above the sombre hatless men.
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One more enemy to kill, that 
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remaining sense of guilt,
                D
that through it all somehow they had
 survived,
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  returned to mothers   sweethearts 
wives.

[Spoken]
Am                       Em
  Familiar streets their own 
backyards,
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their medals and all praise ignored,
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prayed to be his honour guard and 
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walk with him their true reward.
Gsus4                   C
  While far from pomp and 
circumstance,
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  across the autumn fields of 
France,
Dm             C               
  the trenches start to slowly fill 
C/E
and fade,
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the bloody page turned by the 
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ploughman's blade.

[Part 3]
C          Em            F    F G
Thankfully   we'll never know
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  if he was constant strong or 
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frail,
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  scared or brave in equal parts,
G/B     Am             F        F G
country tanned or city pale.
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  A carefree youth or thoughtful 
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lad,
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not wholly good nor wholly bad,
  Dm                               
a bomb does not judge how you 
       G
played your part,
  F              G
a bullet stops a lions [Interlude] 
heart.

[Interlude]
C      Em      F      F G
C      Em      F      F C/E
Dm     G       C      C
Am     Am/G    F      F G

C      Em      F      G
C      G       F      C/E
Dm     Dm      Gsus4  G
F      F       G      G

C      C/E     F      Gsus4 G

[Part 4]
C              Em                 
  With softest cloth and gentlest 
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broom
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  to sweep and wipe cathedral 
     F C/E
dust,
     Dm          G       C   
like dried tears on this marble 
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tomb,
G/B  Am                     F   
take care for he was one of us.
     F G

C            Em F      G
  In perfect irony and grief
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the bride's bouquet becomes a 
C/E
wreath,
    Dm                         
and wrapped beneath dark angels 
        G
folded wings,
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Tommy Atkins rests   with [Otro] 
kings.

[Otro]
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