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