Ralph McTell – The Unknown Soldier (Guitar)

C
Trumpets

C                                G/B
  More than fifty thousand names are carved on Ypres' Menin gate

Am                                      F                        C
  of soldiers who have no known graves,   just their destiny and date.

           G       F                             C      C/E       F      Gsus4 G
is now all that survives from so many squandered lives.

C       Em           F       F
And for every name inscribed

C            Em                  F        F   C/E
  the poor bereaved were left to mourn,

Dm            G       C            C
  the passing of each one who died

        G     Am    Am/G      F         F
with no white cross on tended lawn.

   G        C  Em   F     G
No place to go   to contemplate

    C          G     F              C/E
the sacrifice,   the wicked waste,

   Dm                                     G
no footprint left to show where once they trod

  F             G
Allegedly known unto [Interlude] god.

     C      Em     F         G
From Ypres, Arras, Aisne and Somme,

    C       Em              F       F C/E
six unknown soldiers were exhumed,

  Dm        G       C              C
a blindfold general picked one man

    G/B     Am Am/G              F       F G
and reverently  they brought him home.

C         Em     F        G
Six black horses drew the hearse

        C      G             F          C/E
through silent London crowds   immersed,

   Dm                                G
in deepest thought belief or wishful prayer

     F                   G
that this might be their own boy [Interlude] there.

    Am                                  Em
The metal tyres on the carriage wheels, played the tuneless requiem,

    F                             Am
the sky as grey as bayonet steel above the sombre hatless men.

Em                             Am
One more enemy to kill, that remaining sense of guilt,

                D
that through it all somehow they had survived,

Gsus4                 G
  returned to mothers   sweethearts wives.

Am                       Em
  Familiar streets their own backyards,

             F
their medals and all praise ignored,

Am                                F
prayed to be his honour guard and walk with him their true reward.

Gsus4                   C
  While far from pomp and circumstance,

F                   C
  across the autumn fields of France,

Dm             C               C/E
  the trenches start to slowly fill and fade,

Em              Am                               F
the bloody page turned by the ploughman's blade.

C          Em            F    F G
Thankfully   we'll never know

C           Em                 F        F C/E
  if he was constant strong or frail,

Dm          G        C            C
  scared or brave in equal parts,

G/B     Am             F        F G
country tanned or city pale.

C            Em       F          G
  A carefree youth or thoughtful lad,

    C      G        F      C/E
not wholly good nor wholly bad,

  Dm                                      G
a bomb does not judge how you played your part,

  F              G
a bullet stops a lions [Interlude] heart.

C              Em                 F     F G
  With softest cloth and gentlest broom

C              Em             F      F C/E
  to sweep and wipe cathedral dust,

     Dm          G       C            C
like dried tears on this marble tomb,

G/B  Am                     F        F G
take care for he was one of us.

C            Em F      G
  In perfect irony and grief

    C          G      F       C/E
the bride's bouquet becomes a wreath,

    Dm                                 G
and wrapped beneath dark angels folded wings,

F     F      Gsus4 G
Tommy Atkins rests   with [Outro] kings.