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When I was a young man I carried my pack
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And I lived the free life of a rover.
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From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
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I waltzed my Matilda all over.
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Then in 1915 me country said, “Son
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It's time to stop rambling ‘cause there’s work to be done.â€�
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So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun
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And they sent me away to the war.
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And the band played "Waltzing Matilda"
D E
When we sailed away from the quay,
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And amidst all the tears and the shouts and cheers
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We sailed off for Gallipoli.
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And how well I remember that terrible day
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When our blood stained the sand and the water
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And how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
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We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
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Johnny Turk, he was ready, he'd primed himself well.
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He shot us with bullets, and he rained us with shells,
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And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell,
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Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
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And the band played “Waltzing Matildaâ€�
D E
As we stopped to bury our slain.
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And we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs.
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Then it started all over again.
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Now, those who were living did their best to survive
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In that mad world of guts, blood and fire,
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And for seven long weeks I kept myself alive
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While the corpses around me piled higher.
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Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse-over-head
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And when I awoke in me hospital bed
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And saw what it had done, Christ! I wished I was dead.
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Never knew there was worse things than dying.
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And no more I'll go waltzing Matilda
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Through the green bushes so far and near,
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For to hang tents and pegs a man needs two legs.
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No more waltzing Matilda for me.
(Instrumental break: verse)
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So they collected the the crippled, the wounded and maimed
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And they shipped us back home to Australia,
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The the legless, the armless, the blind and insane�
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Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
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And when the ship pulled into Circular Quay
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I looked at the place where me legs used to be
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And thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for me
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To grieve and to mourn and to pity.
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And the band played "Waltzing Matilda"
A D E
As they carried us down the gangway,
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But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
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And they turned all their faces away.
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And now every April I sit on my porch
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And I watch the parade pass before me.
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I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
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Reliving the dreams of past glory.
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I see the old men all twisted and torn,
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The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war,
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And the young people ask me, "What are they marching for?"
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And I ask myself the same question.
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And the band plays “Waltzing Matilda,â€�
D E
And the old men still answer the call,
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But year after year their numbers are fewer.
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Someday no one will march there at all.
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Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda,
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Who'll go a-waltzing Matilda with me?
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And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the Billabong:
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"Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?