Oh those that were living just tried to survive,
in that mad world of blood death and fire,
and for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive,
while around me the corpses piled hire.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
and when I awoke in me hospital bed,
and saw what it had done, I wished I was dead.
I never new there was worst things than dying.
-
Oh no more I\'ll go Waltzing Matilda,
all along the green bush far and near.
For to hump tent and pegs,
a man needs both legs.
No more waltzing Matilda for me.
-
They collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed,
and they shipped us back home to Australia.
... The armless, the legless, the blind, and the insane,
those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And when the ship pulled into Circular Quay,
I looked where me legs used to be,
and thank Christ there was no one waiting there for me,
to grieve and to mourn and to pity.
-
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
when they carried us down the gangway.
Oh nobody cheered,
they just stood there and stared.
Then they turned all their faces away.
-
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,
renewing their dreams of pass glories.
I see the old men all tired, stiff, and worn,
those old weary heroes of a forgotten war,
and the young people ask, \"What are they marching for\",
and I ask myself that same question.
-
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda,
and the old men still answer the call,
but year after year, their numbers get fewer.
Someday, 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 they march by the billabong.
So who\'ll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?