(intro) G A G A

           D                A                   D               A
    He's twenty-five, he's sick and tired, it's time to try the other side,
D               A            G                   A  A7
    the B&I to paradise, to sergeants and their men.
          D             A          D                       A
    He's never been to Dun Na Ri,       combed the beaches after three,
D                        A        G               A   A7
    chips and beer and greenery, brothers one and all.
        D                   A                 D             A
    He signed and took the soldiers crest, a decent man in battle dress,
D                         A                 G                   A  A7
    when bugles blow you do your best, for sergeants and their men.

    Em    A      D     Em     A  D   G A
    All  for the roses, over the sea.

           D              A                       D              A
    He's way ahead, he's second to none, with his fabrique nationali gun,
D                        A            G                   A  A7
    marching bands with Saxon blood, sergeants and their men.
          D              A                  D             A
    They landed with the sinking sun, an invasion by the media run,
D                             A
    they covered up and they kissed with tongues,
     G                   A  A7
    sergeants and their men.
              D             A
    But the phantom gunner danced the end,
         D              A
    and battered human bodies bled,
D                          A               G                   A  A7
    they butchered us, we butchered them, sergeants and their men.

    Em    A      D     Em     A     D
    All  for the roses, over the sea.
G                A     Em       A      D
    All for the roses, Finglas boys to be.

( D A D A D A G A ) (2x)

            D                   A
    Now a flower of sleep grows on his grave,
        D               A
    forgotten soon the cowards and the brave,
             D                 A                 G                   A  A7
    but the coldest hate still lives today, for sergeants and their men.

    Em    A      D     Em     A      D
    All  for the roses, over the sea.
G                A     Em       A      D
    All for the roses, Finglas boys to be.