I don't want to be haunted by those ghosts I heard as I passed by a billabong, so I'll pass.
When I was a young man, I carried a pack And lived the free life of a rover From the Murray's green banks to the dusty Outback I waltzed my Matilda all over Then in 1915, the country said, "Son, There's no time for roving, there's work to be done." So they gave me a tin hat, and gave me a gun And sent me away to the war
And the band played "Waltzing Matilda" As our ships pulled away from the quay And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears We sailed off to Gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day When 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 Showered us with bullets and rained us with shell And in five minutes flat he'd blown us to Hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia
And the band played "Waltzing Matilda" As we halted to bury the slain We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again
And those who were left just tried to survive In a mad world of blood, death and fire And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive While the corpses around me piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head And when I awoke in a hospital bed I saw what it had done - and wished I was dead Then I knew there were worse things than dying
So I'll go no more waltzing Matilda All through the green bush far and free For to hunt and tent peg, a man needs both legs No more waltzing Matilda for me
They collected the wounded, the crippled and maimed And shipped us back home to Australia The armless, the legless, the blind and insane All the brave, wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ships pulled into Circular Quay I looked at the place where my legs used to be And thanked Christ there was nobody 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 turned all their faces away
So now every April I sit on my porch And watch the parade pass before me And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march! Reviving old dreams and past glories But the old men march slowly, their bones stiff and sore Tired old men from a tired old war And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?" And I ask myself the same question
But the band plays "Waltzing Matilda" And the old men still answer the call But year by year, more old men disappear Soon no one will march there at all
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard as you pass by that billabong "Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me?"
Adaydreambeliever 