Kunci: Ab major•
Verse 1
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Now when I was a young man
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And I lived the free life of a rover
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From the Moray's green basin
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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 ramblin',
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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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Fm
and they gave me a gun,
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and they sent me away to the war
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An d the band played
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waltzing Matilda
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As the ship pulled
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away from the quay
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And amid all the tears,
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flag wavin' and cheers
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We sailed off for Gallipoli
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Well, I remember the terrible day
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When our blood stained the sand
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and the water
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And how, in that hell that
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they called Suvla Bay
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We were butchered like lambs
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Johnny Tark, he was ready,
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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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Nearly blew us back home to Australia
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An d the band played
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Walsing Matilda
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When we stopped
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to bury our slave,
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And we buried ours,
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and the Turks buried theirs,
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Then it started all over
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again.
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Those who were living just tried to survive
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In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
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An d for ten weary weeks
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I kept myself alive,
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Though around me the corpses
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piled higher.
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Then a big turkey shell knocked
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And when I awoke in me hospital bed,
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And saw what it had done,
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and I wished I were dead
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Never knew there were worse
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things than time
For no more I'll go waltz
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ing Matilda
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All around the green bush far and near
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For to hump tent and pegs
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a man needs both legs
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No more waltzing Matilda
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for me
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They collected the wounded,
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the crippled, 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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Those proud,
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wounded heroes of Suvla.
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And when the ship pulled
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into circular quay
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I looked at the place where
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And thanked Christ there was no
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one there waiting for me
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To grieve and to mourn and to pity
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An d the band played
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As they carried us
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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 they turned all their
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faces away
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So now, every April,
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I sit on my porch
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And I watch the parade
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pass before me
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I see my old comrades,
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how proudly they march
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Renewing their dreams of past glory
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I see the old men,
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all tired, stiff and sore,
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The weary old heroes of
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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
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An d the old men
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still answer 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
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there at all.
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Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda,
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Who'll come waltzing
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Matilda with me?
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And their ghosts may be heard
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As they march by the Pelopon
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ing Matilda with me
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