Testo The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

The Band Played Waltzing MatildaNow when I was ayoung man I carried me 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 1915 my country said, Son,It´s time to stop rambling, 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 the ship pulled away from the quay,And amid all the tears, flag waving and cheers,We sailed off for Gallipoli.It´s well I remember that terrible day,When our blood stained the sand and the water,And how in that hell they call Suvla Bay,We were butchered like lambs in the slaughter,Johnny Turk he was ready, oh he primed himself well,He rained us with bullets and he showered us with shell,And in five minutes flat we were all blown to hell,Nearly blew us back home to Australia.And the band played Waltzing Matilda,When we stopped to bury our slain,And when we buried ours, the Turks buried theirs,Then it started all over again.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 higher,Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,And when I awoke in me hospital bed,And saw what it had done, Christ I wished I was dead,Never knew there were worse things than dying.For no more I´ll go Waltzing Matilda,All around the green bush far and near,For to hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs,No more Waltzing Matilda for me.They collected the wounded, the crippled and the maimed,And they shipped us back home to Australia,The armless, the legless, the blind and insane,Those proud wounded heros of Suvla,And when the ship pulled int Circular Quay,And I looked at the place where me legs used to be,I thanked 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 there and stared,And they turned all their faces away.So now every April I sit on my porch,And I watch the parade pass before me,And I see my old comrades how proudly they march,Renewing their dreams of past glories,I see the old men all tired, stiff and sore,Those weary old heros of a forgotten war,And the young people ask what are thy marching for,And I ask myself the same question.And the band played Waltzing Matilda,And the old men still answer the call,But year after year their numbers get fewer,Some day 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,Who´ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me.