Eric Bogle - The gift of years

^DWell, old friend, ^Ghere I am, I ^A7told you I'd be b^Dack And as usual mate, I'm bl^Goody late; it's ^A775 years down the ^Dtrack For the last time h^Gere I stand in t^A7his familiar for^Deign land Back with the mates I l^Geft behind, fixed fo^A7rever in their ^Dtime

A^Dnd all the ghosts, of a^Gll the boys who h^A7aunt this lonely ^Dplace Only one of them wears your c^Gheery grin & your Que^A7ensland joker's f^Dace But I drown in all the bl^Goody dreams of he^A7lpless young men's dyi^Dng screams I feel your hand give my ^Garm a shake & your ^A7voice say "steady, ^Dmate"

A^Dnd the country that you d^Gied for, mate, you wo^A7uld not know it^D now The future that we drea^Gmed of, mate, got all ^A7twisted up some^Dhow The peace that we were fig^Ghting for, the e^A7nd to stupid sens^Deless war So it couldn't h^Gappen to our kids ^A7- well old mate, it d^Did

B^Dut thank you for the g^Gift of years & the ^A7flame that brightly ^Dburned For the time you bought & the les^Gsons taught, tho' often w^A7asted & un^Dlearned "Lest we forget" cry the m^Gultitudes, ^A7as if I ever ^Dever could So forgive an old man's t^Gears, & tha^A7nk you for the yea^Drs