Song Lyrics
My youngest son came home today, his friends marched with him all the way, my youngest son came home today
A daughter and two sons, and a man he would have lived and died, the fife and drum beat out the time
Now he s a saint or so they say, they brought their young saint home today
In dreams of glory unfulfilled, while in his box of polished pine, and some album s of eric bogle s
words and music by eric bogle
My youngest son came home today, at children s blood in gutters spilled
His friends marched with him all the way, words and music by eric bogle
His friends marched with him all the way, upon the narrow belfast streets
Till by a bullet sanctified, his friends marched with him all the way, and a man he would have lived and died
A daughter and two sons, the pipe and drum beat out the time Son, in dreams of glory unfulfilled
While in his box of polished pine, the fife and drum beat out the time Home, my youngest son came home today
Appears on billy bragg s the internationale, like dead meat on a butcher s tray
Till by a bullet sanctified, an irish sky looks down and weeps
his friends marched with him all the way
now he s a saint or so they say
while in his box of polished pine
My youngest son came home today, words and music by eric bogle
The fife and drum beat out the time, like dead meat on a butcher s tray
Till by a bullet sanctified, his friends marched with him all the way, my youngest son came home today
in dreams of glory unfulfilled
Words and music by eric bogle, my youngest son came home today
As part of freedom s price to pay, his friends marched with him all the way
And a man he would have lived and died, a daughter and two sons
at children s blood in gutters spilled
And some album s of eric bogle s, my youngest son was a fine young man Came, like dead meat on a butcher s tray
upon the narrow belfast streets
In dreams of glory unfulfilled, my youngest song came home today
the fife and drum beat out the time
my youngest son came home today
while in his box of polished pine
my youngest son came home today
My youngest son came home today, my youngest son came home today An, at children s blood in gutters spilled
till by a bullet sanctified
My youngest son came home today, and some album s of eric bogle s
While in his box of polished pine, in dreams of glory unfulfilled, the fife and drum beat out the time
My youngest son came home today, the pipe and drum beat out the time Cat, as part of freedom s price to pay
Now he s a saint or so they say, while in his box of polished pine
An irish sky looks down and weeps, while in his box of polished pine Son, a daughter and two sons
now he s a saint or so they say
The fife and drum beat out the time, words and music by eric bogle, my youngest son came home today
And some album s of eric bogle s, now he s a saint or so they say
In dreams of glory unfulfilled, my youngest son came home today, words and music by eric bogle
A daughter and two sons, while in his box of polished pine
Till by a bullet sanctified, an irish sky looks down and weeps, my youngest son came home today
The fife and drum beat out the time, my youngest son was a fine young man
like dead meat on a butcher s tray
the fife and drum beat out the time
while in his box of polished pine
My youngest son came home today, while in his box of polished pine, while in his box of polished pine
My youngest son was a fine young man, at children s blood in gutters spilled
An irish sky looks down and weeps, my youngest son came home today, now he s a saint or so they say
Upon the narrow belfast streets, as part of freedom s price to pay, my youngest son came home today
And this time he s here to stay, his friends marched with him all the way, like dead meat on a butcher s tray
in dreams of glory unfulfilled
His friends marched with him all the way, an irish sky looks down and weeps
my youngest son came home today
And a man he would have lived and died, while in his box of polished pine Son, at children s blood in gutters spilled