The Unknown Soldier Cifras

spotify:track:2BL2NnUOJU9yLDnpS3XqaH
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6v3liUY2gSE
Worked out on request for KS9806 from Northumbria in the UK
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Produced and Arranged by Graham Preskett
 
[Intro 1]
C
Trumpets
 
[Intro] (Spoken)
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.
                      /B                      Am
Witness and last testament, name and rank and regiment,
           G       F                             C      C/E       F      Gsus4 G
is now all that survives from so many squandered lives.
 
[Part 1]
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.
 
[Interlude]
C        C        G        G
Am       C/G      F        F
 
[Part 2]
     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.
 
[Interlude]
C        C/E      F        Gsus4 G
Am       Em       F        Gsus4 G
 
[Spoken]
    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.
 
[Spoken]
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.
 
[Part 3]
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.
 
[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                 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.
 
[Outro]
C        Em        F        Gsus4 G7
C
X