Tom: Bb major•
Intro 1
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Eb
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Gm
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F
Fsus4
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Verse 1
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When I was a young man,
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Gm
I car ried my pack,
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and I lived the free life of a rover.
From the Murray's Green
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Basin to the dusty
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Outback
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Cm
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I waltzed my Mathilda all over
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Then in 1915 my country said son
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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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Gm
and they gave me a gun
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F
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And sen t me away to the war
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And the bands played waltzing Mathilda
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As we sailed away from the quay
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And amid all the tears,
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flag wav ing and cheers
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We set sail for Gallipoli
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How well I remember that terrible day
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And the bloodstain,
the sand and the water
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that they called Suvabe
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We were butchered like lambs
at the slaughter
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he primed himself well
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F
He chased us with bullets
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and rained us with shell
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And in five minutes flat,
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Nearly blew us right back to Australia
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And the bands played Waltzing Matilda
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As we stopped to bury our slain
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and the Turks buried theirs
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F
And it started all over again
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Now those that were left
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just tried to survive
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F
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In a mad world of blood, death an d fire
And for ten weary week
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s I kept myself alive
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As around me the corpses piled higher
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knocked me arse overhead
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And when I awoke in my hospital bed
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Saw what I'd done,
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Never knew there were worse
things than dying
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For no more I'll go waltzing Mathilda
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F
All around the green bush far and near
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For to hum tent and pegs,
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a man needs both legs
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No more waltz and Mathilda for me
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They collected the cripples,
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the wounded, the maimed
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And they shipped us back
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home to Australia
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The armless, the legless,
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the blind, the insane
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Proud wounded heroes of Silva
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And as our ship pulled into Circle or Quay
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I looked at the place where
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And thank 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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And the band played Waltzing Matilda
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As they carried us down the gangway
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But nobody cheered,
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they just stood there and stared,
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and turned all their faces away
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And now every April I sit on my porch
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And I watch the parade pass before me
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I watch my old com rades,
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how proudly they march
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Reliving old dreams of past glory
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And the old men march slowly,
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all bent stiff and sore
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Forgotten heroes from 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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I ask myself the same question
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And the band plays while
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And the old men an swer the call
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But year after year the
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numbers get fewer
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Someday no one will march
Waltzing Mathilda,
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Who'll come a -waltzing
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F
And their ghosts may be heard
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As they march along the billabong
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Who'll come a -waltzing Mathilda with me?
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AfinadorE A D G B E
AcordesBb Eb Gm F Fsus4...
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