D C G
D He met with the world as a Dalkeith boy,
Raised from a shaft at Monktonhall
In a C well oiled cage,
That locked away his G dreams.
An D '85 veteran facefrom the gallery,
A ghost from the civil war in the family,
He C stood his ground on the picketline.
' G Til all that he was left with,
Were his D father's cough
And his mother's eyes.
That would hold a tear
For the very first time,
When the C government took his job G away.
Now D fist in hand he'll stand in line.
Declare his name and mark his time.
To C some the only proof that they're G alive.
CHORUS:
He could have been F you. _|
He could have been me. |
D# | x 2
He could have been anybody |
(Bb) F |
But he was born lucky. _|
F D# Bb
F He mad his first downpayment,
On a sharp Italian suit.
He sewed D# razor blades into the Bb lapels,
F See him sweating on the dancefloor.
Coal dust oozing out of every pore.
A D# hard man with a hard life,
And that's a Bb story that he'll tell you,
Down at F Easter Road till his throat is raw.
On a Saturday, he knows the score,
D# Till the whistle blows and,
The tempers with their Bb colours fade away.
On the D helipads at Aberdeen
Bound for platforms drilling oil rich seas,
Where the C trawlers are getting fewer
Every G year.
By the D furnaces at Ravenscraig,
By the padlocks holding John Brown's gates,
In the C desert, in the fields of South G Armagh,
Where the D poppies grow,
Behind the Hampden roar,
Behind the drums in Genoa.
On the C deck that rides a south Atlantic G swell,
D Born to fight out of the tightest corner.
You can bet on him with the odds against you,
C They'll not put him down
No matter how hard they G try.
Repeat
F D# Bb
till end.
Christer Varan
C.Varan@ET.TUDelft.NL
Fish
