Don McLean

^spoken
The grave that they dug him had flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in bright summer colours
And the brown earth bleached white at the edge of his gravestone
He's gone
When the ^Am wars of our nation did ^C beckon
A ^Dm man barely twenty did answer the ^E7 call
^Am Proud of the trust that he ^E7 placed in our nation. He is ^Am gone.
But ^F eternity knows him and it ^Dm knows what we've ^E7 done.
And the ^Am rain fell like pearls on the ^Dm leaves of the ^E7 flowers
Leaving ^Am brown muddy clay where the ^Dm earth had been ^E7 dry
And ^Am deep in the trench he waited for ^E7 hours
As he ^F held to his rifle and ^Dm prayed not to ^E7 die
But the ^Dm silence of night was ^Am shattered by fire
As ^Dm guns and grenades blasted ^Am sharp through the air
^Dm One after another his ^Am comrades were slaughtered
In a ^C morgue of marines, ^Dm alone standing ^E7 there
He ^F crouched ever lower, ever ^Dm lower in ^Am fear
They ^F can't let me die, they can't ^Dm let me die ^Am here
I'll ^F cover myself with the ^Am mud and the earth
I'll ^F cover myself, I know I'm not ^E7 brave!
The ^Am earth, the ^Dm earth, the ^E7 earth is my grave
^Solo
spoken
The ^Am grave that they dug him had ^C flowers
Gathered from the hillsides in ^Dm bright summer ^E7 colours
And the ^Am brown earth bleached ^Dm white at the ^E7 edge of his gravestone
He is gone… ^Am