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And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
When I was a young man, I carried my pack
And I lived the free life, of a rover.
From the Murray's green basin
To the dusty outback,
I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said "Son…"
"It'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 our ship pulled away from the quay.
And amidst all the tears,
And the shouts and the cheers
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
How well I remember that terrible day,
How blood stained the sand and the water.
And how in that hell
That they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk he was ready, He'd primed himself well.
He showered us with bullets,
And he rained us with shells.
And in five minutes flat
He'd blown us all to hell.
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
As we stopped to bury our slain.
We buried ours
And the Turks buried theirs,
Then it started all over again.
Now those who were left, did our best to survive,
In a mad world of guts, blood, and fire.
And for ten weary weeks,
I kept myself alive,
As around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell, knocked me foot over head.
And when I woke up
In my hospital bed,
And saw what it had done,
And I wished I was dead.
Never knew there were worse things than dying.
For I’ll go no more go Waltzing Matilda,
All around the green bush far and near.
For to hump tent and pegs
A man needs both legs.
No more Waltzing Matilda for me.
So they collected the crippled, the wounded and maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind and insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place
Where my legs used to be.
And thanked God, there was nobody there
Waiting for me,
To 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 and stared,
Then they turned all their faces away.
And 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.
Reliving the dreams of past glory
I see the old men, all twisted and torn.
The forgotten heroes
Of a forgotten war.
And the young people ask me,
What are they marching for?
And I ask myself the same question.
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda,
And the old men still answer the call.
But year after year,
Their numbers get fewer,
Someday no-one will march there at all.
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 pass by the billabong
Who’ll come a waltzing Matilda with me?
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Voice/Instruments/Production: Gareth Jones
Written by Eric Bogle