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 cos 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 when in that town that they called Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter Johnny 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 Australia And the band played Waltzing Matilda As we stopped to bury our slain And we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again Now those that were living did their best to survive In a mad world of blood, death and fire, And, for seven long weeks, I kept myself alive But the corpses around me piled higher Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit And when I awoke in my hospital bed I saw what it had done. Christ ! I wished I was dead Never knew there were worse things than dying For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda All around the green bush far and near For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs No more Waltzing Matilda for me So they collected the cripples, the wounded, the maimed, And they shipped us back home to Australia The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane, Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla And as our ship pulled into Circular Bay I looked at the place my legs used to be And thank Christ there was no one 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 Then 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, Renewing old dreams of past glory I see the old men march slowly, 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 Matilda And the old men still answer to the call But year after year their number gets fewer Some day no one will march there at all Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me