[Chorus]
[D]Sweet Lord, I was[A] seven and[G] Margaret was e[D]leven
They[G] fed us war for[D] breakfast and[E] soldiers' songs
for [A]tea
Your[G] father's gone cam[D]paigning, was their[G] way of not ex[D]plaining
That[G] soldiers are the[D] living
proof of our[A7] inhumani[D]ty
[1]
My[D] father said farewell and the[G] band played tunes of[A7] glor[D]y
A[G] gallant man he[D] marched away, a[E]
man with digni[A]ty
A[G] regimental[D] sergeant, the[G] backbone of the[D] Empire
For[G] God and righteous[D] glory
bound for[A] High Germa[D]ny
[2]
My childhood passed away amid tales and lurid stories
Of manufactured glories and inhuman gallantry
I asked, When
is war over, but no one seemed to answer
And Margaret played the dreaded tune called High Germany
[3]
My father came back home, but he came without his reason
Two eyes of molten madness, a senseless fool of war
He's
just a child, my mother cried, To be dressed in full regalia
And paraded as a hero home from High Germany
