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