Now when I was a young man and I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of the rover
From the murray's green basin to the dusty out back
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 amid all the tears, flag waving and cheers
We sailed off to galipolli.

Well I remember that terrible day
When our 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.

Johnnie turk he was ready, oh he primed himself well
He rained us with bullets, and he showered us with shell
And in five minutes flat we were all blown to hell,
Nearly blew us back home to australia.

But the band played waltzing matilda
As we stuck to bury our slain.
We burned ours and the turks burned theirs
And we started all over again.

Those who were living just tried to survive,
In a 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 a___ over head
And when I awoke in my hospital bed.
I saw what it had done and I wished I were 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 near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No more waltzing matilda for me.

They collected the crippled, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of suvla.
And as our ship pulled in to circular key
And I looked at the place where my legs used to be
I thanked christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn or 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 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
Renewing their dreams of past glory.

I see the old men, all tired, stiff and sore,
The 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 played waltzing matilda
And the old men still answer the call.
But year after year, the numbers get fewer
Some day 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 you march by the billabong,
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me.

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