Elvis Costello - My Youngest Son Came Home Today Chords

 
         
         
         
         
X
X
2
3
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
3
4
2
1
10 fr
         
         
         
         
X
X
1
1
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
X
X
3
2
1
2 fr
         
         
         
         
X
4
3
1
2
X
10 fr
         
         
         
         
1
3
4
1
1
1

12 fr
         
         
         
         
X
X
1
3
4
2
         
         
         
         
1
3
4
2
1
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
X
4
3
1
2
1
3 fr
         
         
         
         
X
X
1
2
4
3
         
         
         
         
X
X
3
2
1
1
8 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
3
3
3
1
10 fr
         
         
         
         
4
3
1
1
1
X

10 fr
         
         
         
         
3
2
1
1
1
4
         
         
         
         
X
3
2
1
3 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
2
3
4
1
8 fr
         
         
         
         
1
3
4
2
1
1
3 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
X
3
4
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
3
2
1
1
1
4
10 fr
         
         
         
         
X
X
1
3
4
3

12 fr
         
         
         
         
X
4
3
1
2
1
3 fr
         
         
         
         
X
         
         
         
         
X
2
3
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
1
3
4
1
1
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
X
X
1
1
1
8 fr
         
         
         
         
X
3
2
4
1
2 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
4
4
4
7 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
3
4
2

9 fr
         
         
         
         
X
4
3
1
2
X
12 fr
         
         
         
         
X
1
3
4
2
1
5 fr
         
         
         
         
X
No chord
Standard guitar tuning:
E
A
D
G
B
E
No capo
DmMy youngest son came hoFme todaCy DmHis friends marched with him aFll the waCy. DmA fife and drum beat ouCt the tFime. DmWhile in his box of polCished pFine, DmLike deaAmd meat on a Dmbutcher'Ams tray, DmMy youngest son came Chome toDmday. My youngest son was a fine young man, With a wife, a daughter, and two sons. As a man he would have lived and died, Until by a bullet, sanctified. Now he's a saint, or so they say, They brought their young saint home today. Above the narrow Belfast streets, An Irish sky looks down and weeps At children's blood in gutters spilled, And dreams of glory unfulfilled. As part of freedom's price to pay, My youngest son came home today. My youngest son came home today. His friends marched with him all the way. A fife and drum beat out the time. While in his box of polished pine, Like dead meat on a butcher's tray, My youngest son came home today. DmAnd this time he's hoCme...to Dmstay