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Walzing Mathilda
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 walzed my Mathilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It's time to stop rambling cos there's work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And sent me away to the war
And the band played walzing mathilda
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
How 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.
Jonny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased 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 Austraila.
But the band played Walzing Mathilda
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again.
Now, those who were left, well we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire
And for then weary weaks I kept myself alive
But around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
And I woke up in my hospital bed
I saw what it had done, Christ, I wish I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For I'll go no more waltzing Mathilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No more waltzing Mathilda for me
So they collected the cripples, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home, to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was noone there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to pity
And the band played Walzing Mathilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and they stared
Then turned all their faces away.
And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Renewing the dreams of past glory
The silly old men - all bent stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, 'what are they marching for ?'
And I ask myself the same question
And the band played Waltzing Mathilda
And the old men answer to call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all
Waltzing Mathilda, Waltzing Mathilda
Who'll come a-waltzing Mathilda with me ?
And their ghosts may be heard as you pass the blue sky
Who'll come a-waltzing Mathilda with me ?