The Band Played Waltzin' Matilda
Now, when I was a young man, I carried me pack,
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin, to the dusty outback,
I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, the country said, "Son,
It's time to stop ramblin', there's work to be done."
And they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they sent me away to the war.
And the band played Waltzin' Matilda
As our ship pulled away from the quay,
Amidst all the cheers, the flag waving and tears,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
How well I remember that terrible day,
When our blood stained the sand and the water.
And how in the hell did they call Tsuvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Jonny Turkey was ready, he primed himself well.
He chased us with bullets, and he rained us with shell,
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell;
Nearly blew us back home to Australia.
And the band played Waltzin' Matilda,
As we stopped to bury our slain.
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs;
then we started all over again.
Now 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,
And all around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me ass over head,
And when I woke up, in me hospital bed,
And I saw what it'd done, and I wished were dead;
Never knew there was worse things 'n dying.
For no more I'll go Waltzin' Matilda,
All around the green bush, far and near.
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs;
No more Waltzin' Matilda for me.
They collected the cripples, the wounded and maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane;
All those proud wounded heroes of Tsuvla.
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve, and to mourn, and to pity.
And the band played Waltzin' Matilda,
As they carried us down the gangway;
But nobody cheered -- they just stood there 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.
And watch my old comrades; how proudly they march,
Renewing old dreams of past glory.
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore,
The weary old heroes of a forgotten war,
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?",
And I ask myself the same question.
And the band plays Waltzin' Matilda,
And the old men still answer the call,
But year by year, the numbers get fewer;
Someday, no one will answer at all.
Waltzin' Matilda,
Waltzin' Matilda,
Who'll go a-waltzin' Matilda with me - e - e;
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong,
Who'll go a-waltzin' Matilda with me ?
This songbook is collected mainly for my personal use and the enjoyment of my friends.
If you are the author or copyright holder of this song and would like me to take it down, please just write to me at
songbook-at-waks-dot-org, and I will do so.
