The Pogues – And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda (Guitar)

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When I was a young man, I carried my pack.

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And I lived the free life, of a rover.

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>From the Murray'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 "son"

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"It's time to stop rambling,"

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"Cos 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,

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And they sent me away to the war.

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And the band played Waltzing Matilda,

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As we sailed away from the quay.

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And amidst all the tears,

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And the shouts and the cheers,

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We sailed off for Galipoli

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How well I remember that terrible day,

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when the blood stained the sand and the water.

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And how in that hell

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that they called Souvla Bay

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We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.

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Johnny Turk, he was ready, He'd primed himself well.

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He showered us with bullets,

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And he rained us with shells.

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And in five minutes flat,

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he'd blown us all to hell.

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Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

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And the band played Waltzing Matilda,

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As we stopped to bury our slain.

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And we buried ours

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and the Turks buried theirs,

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And it started all over again.

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Now those who were living, Did their best to survive,

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In that mad world of guts, blood, and fire.

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And for seven long weeks,

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I kept myself alive,

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As the corpses around me piled higher.

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Then a big Turkish shell, Knocked me arse over tit.

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And when I awoke

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in my hospital bed,

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And saw what it had done,

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Christ I wished I was dead.

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Never knew there were worse things than dying.

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And no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda,

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To the green bushes so far and near.

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For to hang tent and pegs

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A man needs two legs.

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No more Waltzing Matilda for me.

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So they collected the crippled, The wounded and maimed,

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And they shipped us back home to Australia.

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The legless, the armless,

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the blind and insane.

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Those proud wounded heroes of Souvla

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And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay

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I looked at the place

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where my legs used to be.

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And thank Christ, there was nobody

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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 and stared,

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And they turned their faces away.

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And now every April, I sit on my porch,

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And I watch the parades pass before me.

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I see my old comrades,

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How proudly they march.

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Reliving the dreams of past glory.

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I see the old men, all twisted and torn.

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The forgotten heroes

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of a forgotten war.

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And the young people ask me,

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What are they marching for?

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And I ask my self the same question.

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And 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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Their numbers get fewer,

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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?