Lyrics

When I was a young man I carried me pack And I lived the free life of the rover From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback I waltzed my Matilda all over Then in 1915, the country said, "Son It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done." So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun And they sent me away to the war And the band played "Waltzing Matilda," As our ship pulled away from the quay And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears We sailed off to Gallipoli And how well I remember that terrible day How our blood stained the sand and the water; And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter Johnny Turk, he was ready, he primed himself well; He chased us with bullets, and he rained us with shell -- And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia But the band played "Waltzing Matilda," When we stopped to bury our slain Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again And those that were left, well, we tried to survive In that mad world of blood, death and fire And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive Though around me the corpses piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head And when I woke up in my hospital bed And saw what it had done, well, and wished I was dead -- Never knew there was worse things than dying For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda," All around the green bush far and near-- To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me So they collected the cripples; the wounded, and maimed And they shipped us back home to Australia The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay I looked at the place where me legs used to be And thanked Christ there was no-one there waiting for me To grieve, to mourn and to pity And the band played "Waltzing Matilda," As they carried us down the gangway But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared And they turned all their faces away And now every April, I sit on my porch And I watch the parade pass before me And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march Renewing old dreams and past glory And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore They're tired old men from a forgotten war And the young people ask "What are they marching for?" And I ask meself the same question But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda," And the old men answer the call But as year by year, the numbers get fewer Someday, no one will march there at all Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?