Текст песни bragg billy - Youngest Son
bragg billy - Youngest Son слова песни
From: Derek Gross My youngest song came home todayHis friends marched with him all the wayThe fife and drum beat out the timeWhile in his box of polished pineLike dead meat on a butcher`s trayMy youngest son came home todayMy youngest son was a fine young manWith a wife, a daughter and two sonsAnd a man he would have lived and diedTill by a bullet sanctifiedNow he`s a saint or so they sayThey brought their young saint home todayAn Irish sky looks down and weepsUpon the narrow Belfast streetsAt children`s blood in gutters spilledIn dreams of glory unfulfilledAs part of freedom`s price to payMy youngest son came home todayMy youngest son came home todayHis friends marched with him all the wayThe pipe and drum beat out the timeWhile in his box of polished pineLike dead meat on a butcher`s trayMy youngest son came home todayAnd this time he`s here to stayWords and music by Eric BogleAppears on Billy Bragg`s _The Internationale_and some album(s) of Eric Bogle`s