Slime - My Youngest Son (Eric Bogle-Cover) Vorsicht: der Takt ist nicht immer gerade 4/4 !!! Intro: (* bedeutet einen Triller, der fast nur auf der Geige möglich ist, und X den 10. Bund, der sonst nicht reinpaßt) e G h h * e G h h e|0-----02|3-52|halten--|232020-2|0-----02|3-52|halten--|23202-5-| H|--------|----|--------|------3-|--------|----|--------|--------| G|--------|----|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| D|--------|----|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| A|--------|----|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| E|--------|----|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ e * D e e * D e G h G h h * e|7-----7-|5-X7--75|7-----7-|5-X7--75|3-5-2---|3-02|halten--|232020-2| H|--------|--------|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|------3-| G|--------|--------|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| D|--------|--------|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| A|--------|--------|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| E|--------|--------|--------|--------|--------|----|--------|--------| 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ e * D e e e|0-----0-|--------|0-------|------| H|--------|3---0-3-|--------|------| Zwei G|--------|--------|--------|------| Takte D|--------|--------|--------|------| Trommel- A|--------|--------|--------|------| wirbel... E|--------|--------|--------|------| 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+4+ 1+2+3+ | e | G | h | h | 1 2 3 4 1 2 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 | e | G | h | h | 1 2 3 4 1 2 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 | e | D e | e | D e | 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 | G h | G | h | h | 1 2 3 4 1 2 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 | e | D | e | e | 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 1 2 3 4 Extro: | D | D | D | e_____ ^ritardando (langsamer werden) Intro It's an 800 years never-ending war That causes grief, sorrow, suffering and pain - and glory. But glory for who? S1 My youngest son came home today His friends marched with him all the way The flutes and drums beat out the time As in his box of polished pine Like dead meat on a butcher's tray My youngest son came home today. S2 My youngest son was a fine young man With a wife and a daughter and a son As a man he would have lived and died Till by that bullet sanctified Now he's a saint or so they say They brought their saint home today. Fiddle-Solo S3 Above the narrow Belfast streets An Irish sky looks down and weeps On children's blood in gutters spilled For dreams of freedom unfilled As part of freedom's price to pay My youngest son came home today. Gitarren-Solo S4 My youngest son came home today His friends marched with him all the way The flutes and drums beat out the time As in his box of polished pine Like dead meat on a butcher's tray My youngest son came home today Extro But this time he's home to stay.