When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the
dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It`s time to stop rambling `cause
there`s work to be
done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the shouts and the
cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli
How well I remember that terrible day
<When> the 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 ready, he primed himself well
He <showered> us with bullets,
he rained us with
shells
And in five minutes flat he`d blown
us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia
But the band played Waltzing Matilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
And we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then <it> started all over again
Now those <who were living did
their best to survive>
In <that> mad world of blood,
death and fire
And for <seven long> weeks I
kept myself alive
<While the corpses around me piled higher>
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me
arse over tit
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, <Christ>
I wished I was
dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
<And> no more I`ll go waltzing Matilda
<To> the green <bushes so>
far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me
So they collected the cripples, the
wounded <and>
maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
<The legless, the armless>,
the blind <and> insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where <me>
legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
<And they> turned all their faces away
And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
<I see> my old comrades, how
proudly they march
Reliving <the or their> dreams
of past glory
<I see the old men, all twisted and torn>
