Irish traditional song lyrics — collected by Beer Belly Band.
When I was a young man I carried a pack and lived the free life of a rover
From the Murray’s green basin to the dusty outback, I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said son:
“It’s time you stopped rambling, there’s work to be done”
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun, and sent me away to a war
And the band played ‘Waltzing Matilda’ as the ship pulled away from the quay
And ‘midst all the tears, flag waving and cheers, we sailed off to Gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day, 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;
Johnny Turk he was waiting, he’d primed himself well,
He rained us with bullets & showered us with shells
And in five minutes flat he’d blown us all to hell, nearly blew us right back 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 that were living we tried to survive in that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept my self myself alive, while around the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell, knocked arse over head, and when I awoke in my hospital bed
I saw what was done, I wished I was dead, I never knew there were worse things than dying
For I’ll go no more waltzing Matilda all around the green bush far and free
For to hump tent and peg, sure, a man needs two legs, no more waltzing Matilda for me
They collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed, and shipped us back home to Australia
The arm less, the leg less, the blind, the insane, those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And when our ship pulled into Circular Quay, I looked at the place where my legs used to be
I thanked 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, then they all turned their faces away
Now every April I sit on my porch and watch the parade pass before me
I see my old comrades, how proudly they march, reliving their dreams of past glories
I see the old men, tired, stiff and sore, the forgotten 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 as year follows year, more old men disappear, someday no one will march there at all
CODA:
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?