Print

Now when I was a young man, I carried my pack.And I lived the free life of a roverFrom the Murray's green basinTo the dusty outback,I waltzed my matilda all over.Then in nineteen fifteen, my country said sonIt's time to stop rambling,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 the ship pulled away from the QuayAnd amidst all the tears,Flagwaving and cheersWe sailed off for GallipoliWell I remember that terrible dayWhen our blood stained the sand and the waterAnd how in that hell that they called Suvla BayWe were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.Johnny Turk he was readyOh he primed himself well.He rained us with bullets,And he showered us with shells.Letras de cancionesAnd in five minutes flat,We were all blown to hellNearly blew us back home to Australia.And the band played Waltzing Matilda,When we stopped to bury our slain.And we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs,And it started all over again.Those who were living,Just tried to surviveIn that mad world of blood, death and fireAnd for ten weary weeks,I kept myself alive,While around me the corpses piled higherThen a big Turkish shell,Knocked me arse over headAnd when I awoke in my hospital bed,And saw what it had done,Then I wished I was dead.I never knew there were worse things than dying.For no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda,All around the green bush far and nearFor to hump tent and pegsA man needs both legsNo more Waltzing Matilda for me.They collected the woundedThe crippled, the maimed,And they shipped us back home to Australia.The armless, the leglessThe blind, the insane.Those proud wounded heroes of SuvlaAnd when the ship pulled into Circular QuayI looked at the place where me legs used to be.And thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for meTo grieve and to mourn and to pity.And the band played Waltzing Matilda,As they carried us down the gangway.But nobody cheered,They just stood there and stared,Then they turned all their faces awaySo now every April,I sit on my porch,And I watch the parade pass before me.I see my old comrades,How proudly they march.Renewing their dreams of past gloriesI see the old men, all tired, stiff and soreThe weary old heroes of a forgotten warAnd the young people ask,What are they marching for?And I ask myself the same question.And the band plays Waltzing MatildaAnd the old men still answer the callBut as year follows year,More old men disappearSomeday no one will march there at all.Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing MatildaWho'll come a waltzing matilda with me?And their ghosts may be heardAs they march by the billabongWho'll come a-waltzing matilda with me? From Letras Mania