Em Am
Again, again- the chorus starts again
G D Em
these songs of the martyred dead
Am Em
That we find and compose, ‘til the guitar overflows,
G D
And the wood is stained in red?
Em D
Hero’s speeches, or screams of prisoners,
Am B7
can tumble from the strings I play
Am Em
And my frets stand in rows like crosses by the road-
C B7
milestones to mark us the way
Bb Am Bb C
My father looked past the glass of amber,
Bb C
when he sang have you seen my old friend John?
Em Am
And his eyes welled for the world they’ve pass on to us,
G D Em
and for hopes too long since gone

Do you remember, dear friend, those autumn nights,
with golden spirits around a pyre
that burned in our throats like manifestos,
like dragons to set the world on fire?
How our breath was smoke on cold mornings we woke,
warmed in each other’s touch?
Or how blood steams, staining winter with its streams,
or the vice of a wounded comrade’s clutch?
My frets could be trellis, my strings could be vines,
that sprout out from the melting snow
Climbing towards the warmth on a spring breeze where the sky
is copper in the morning’s glow

Haven’t the dead left us songs enough
to fill the oceans- or drown the Earth?
Do we follow to the world that strangled them,
or to the one one they died to give birth?
Do we draw sacred signs in the ashes
or does the lamp keep the miracle of fire?
Does its warmth guide us through the falling veil of the night,
or do we throw ourselves onto the pyre?
My father looked past the glass of amber, and his smile grew quiet as a tomb
I’ll live to bury you, son, I’m so proud of you- and the Minstrel Boy echoed down the room
G C D G C D G
The Minstrel Boy to the war is gone, in the ranks of death you will find him
G C D G C D G
His father’s sword he is girded on, and his wild harp slung behind him
Em D Em D G
Land of Song, cried the warrior bard, though all the world betray three
G C D G C D G
One sword at least thy rights shall guard, one faithful harp shall praise thee