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, my country said, "Son
It's time to stop ramblin', there's work to be done"
So they gave me a tin hat, they gave me a gun
And they send me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the ship pulled away from the quay
And amid all the tears, flag-waving and cheers
We sailed off for Gallipoli
'Tis well I remember that terrible day when our blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay, we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk, he was ready, oh, he primed himself well
He rained us with bullets, and he showered us with shells
And in five minutes flat, we're all blown to hell
Nearly blew us back home 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
Those who are living, they're just trying to survive in that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive while around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I awoke in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For no more I'll 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
They collected the wounded, the crippled and maimed, and they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane, those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And when the ship pulled into circular quay
I looked at the place where me legs used to be
And thank 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 there and stared
And they turned all their faces away
So 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 their dreams of past glory
I see the old men, all tired, stiff and sore
Those weary old heroes of a forgotten war
And the young people ask, "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 as year follows year, more old men disappear
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?
