NOVEMBER 12th                    Capo on 2
D
My name is Private Joe Carpenter
                               G
of the 51st Rifles in France.

And I'm here to pick up the pieces of people
                                     D
left when the armies advanced.

The rats here grow fat on the flesh of my comrades
                                     G
rotting out in no-man's land.

Now, I'm trying to give some poor old bugger his name back
                                        D
when all I can find is his hand.
      
             Chorus
D
November 11th, they rung out the bells.
C
The crowds hit the streets as they silenced the shells.
D
And I bet old Lloyd George were proud of himself
                      C                           G                      D
but he weren't digging graves on November the 12th.


My brother died up in Ypres last winter
he'd signed up as soon as he could.
Now bits of his body lie buried forever
in ten foot of Passchendale mud.
There is no graveside my mother can mourn at;
she cries out into the night.
She said that his death is a message from heaven
that God never meant us to fight.

             Chorus

I were digging some place when I come face to face
with two unblinking eyes staring back.
It give me a fright, by some trick of the light,
I swear, it looked like our Jack.
But it were only some German boy, barely sixteen,
I stood there and whispered a prayer.
I said, “You weren't ever really my enemy, son
No, he's sat in some office, somewhere.”

                Change to last two lines of chorus

And I hope all warmongers rot down in hell
'cause I'd make 'em dig graves on November the 12th.

By Joe Solo, a Scarborough, UK, singer/songwriter
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=tF7ee39mwWY&list=RDtF7ee39mwWY&start_radio=1

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NOVEMBER 12th  - Joe Solo       https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=7kjCDSerQy8