John Williamson – And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda (Ukulele)

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Now when I was a young man I carried me pack 

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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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Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over.

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Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,

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It's time you stop ramblin', there's work to be done."

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So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,

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And they marched me away to the war.

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And the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"

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As the ship pulled away from the quay,

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And amidst all the cheers, the flag waving, and tears,

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We sailed off for Gallipoli.

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And how well I remember that terrible day,

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How our blood stained the sand and the water;

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And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay

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We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.

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Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well;

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He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell –

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And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,

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Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

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But the band played "Waltzing Matilda,"

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When we stopped to bury our slain,

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Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,

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Then we started all over again.

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And those that were left, well, we tried to survive

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In that mad world of blood, death and fire.

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And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive

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Though around me the corpses piled higher.

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Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,

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And when I woke up in me hospital bed

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And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead –

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Never knew there was worse things than dying.

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For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda,"

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All around the green bush far and free –

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To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,

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No more "Waltzing Matilda" for me.

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So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,

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And they shipped us back home to Australia.

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The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane,

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Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.

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And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,

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I looked at the place where me legs used to be,

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And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,

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To grieve, 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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But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,

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Then they turned all their faces away.

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And so now every April, I sit on my porch

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And I watch the parade pass before me.

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And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,

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Reviving old dreams of past glory,

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And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore,

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They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war

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And the young people ask "What are they marching for?"

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And I ask meself the same question.

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But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda,"

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And the old men still answer the call,

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But as year follows year, more old men disappear

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Someday, no one will march there at all.

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Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda.

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Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?

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And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,

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Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?