Tom: Db major•
Verse 1
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When I was a young
man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of the 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 my country said,
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It's time to stop rambling,
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there's work to be done
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so they gave me a tin hat
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and they gave me a gun
and they sent me away to the war
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And a band played Waltzing Matilda,
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and a ship pulled away from the quay
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And amid all the cheers,
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like waving and tears,
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we sailed off for Gallipoli
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ber that terrible day
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When our blood stained
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the sand and the water
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How in that how that they
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We were butchered like lambs
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Johnny Tuck, he was ready,
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oh he primed himself well
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He rained us with bullets
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and he showered us with shell
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And in five minutes flat,
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we were all blown to hell
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Yet he blew us back home to Australia
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And the band played Waltzing Matilda
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When we start to bury our slain
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We buried ours,
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and the Turks buried theirs
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And we started all over again
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Those that were living
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while we tried to survive
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In that mad world of blood,
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I just kept myself alive
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As around me the corpses piled higher
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Then a big Turkish shell
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knocked me arse overhead
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And when I awoke in my hospital bed
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And saw what it had done,
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I wished I were dead
Never knew there were worse
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For no more I'll go waltzing Matilda
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All around the green bush far and free
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For to hunt and to peck
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a man needs both legs
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No more waltzing Matilda for me
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They gathered the crippled,
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the wounded, the maimed
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And they shipped us back home
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to Australia
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The armless, the leg less,
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Most proud wounded heroes of Sioux blood
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An d as the ship
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pulled into Circular Quay
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And I looked at the place
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where my legs used to be
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I thanked Christ there was
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nobody waiting for me
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To grieve and to mourn and to pity
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But the band played Waltzing Matilda
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As they carried us down the gangway
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they just stood there and stared
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And then they turned all their
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faces away
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So now every April I sit on my porch
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And I watch the parade
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pass before me
I see my old comrades,
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how proudly they march
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Reviv ing old dreams of past glories
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I see the old men,
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all tired, stiff and sore
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Those weary old heroes
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of a forgotten war
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And the young people ask,
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what are they marching for?
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And I ask myself the same question
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An d the band plays Waltzing Matilda
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And the old men still answer the call
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But year after year,
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more of them disappear
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Someday no one will march
Waltzing Matilda,
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Waltzing Matilda
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Who'll come waltzing with Tilda, with me
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And their ghosts may be heard,
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as they march by that purple bar
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Who'll come waltzing with Tilda,
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with me
I'll see you next time.
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