Phil Ochs - White boots marching in a yellow land

^CThe pilots playing ^Ampoker in the ^Fcockpit of the ^Cplane, ^Amthe casualties ^Farriving like the ^Dmdropping of the rain. ^CAnd a mountain of ^Ammachinery will ^Ffall before a ^Gman, ^Cwhen you're white^F boots marching in a^G yellow ^Cland

^CIt's written in the ^Amashes of the^F village towns we ^Cburn, ^Amit's written in the ^Fempty beds of ^Dmfathers unreturned. ^CAnd the chocolate in the ^Amchildren’s eye^Fs will neve^Gr understand, ^Cwhen you're ^Fwhite boots ^Gmarching in a ^Cyellow land.

^AmRed blow the bugles of the dawn, ^Gthe morning has arrived, you must be gone. ^FAnd the lost patrol chase their char^Gtered souls, ^Clike old whores following tire^Bbd armies.

-

^C

^CTrain them well, ^Amthe men who will be ^Ffighting by your ^Cside, ^Amand never turn yo^Fur back, if the battl^Dme turns the tide, ^Cfor the colours of a ^Amcivil war are ^Flouder than ^Gcommands, ^Cwhen you're white^F boots marching in a^G yellow ^Cland.

^CBlow them from the ^Amforest and ^Fburn them from your ^Csight, ^Amtie their hands behind their backs,^F and question through the ni^Dmght.

^CBut when the ^Amfiring squad is ready, they'll be s^Fpitting where they s^Gtand, ^Cat the ^Fwhite boots ^Gmarching in a y^Cellow land.

^AmRed blow the bugles of the dawn, ^Gthe morning has arrived, you must be gone. ^FAnd the lost patrol chase their char^Gtered souls, ^Clike old whores following tire^Bbd armies.

-

^C

^CThe comic and the ^Ambeauty queen are ^Fdancing on the ^Cstage, ^Amraw recruits are lining up like c^Foffins in a cag^Dme. ^COh, we're ^Amfighting in a war we lost ^Fbefore the war ^Gbegan, ^Cwe're the white ^Fboots marching in a ^Gyellow l^Cand.

^AmRed blow the bugles of the dawn, ^Gthe morning has arrived you must be gone. ^FAnd the lost patrol chase their char^Gtered souls, ^Clike old ^Bbwhores following tir

-

ed^C armies.