And The Band Played

And the band played Waltzing Matilda

by Eric Bogle

{ from Mike Hiltonwood i951612@ironbark.bendigo.latrobe.edu.au }

When I was a young man I carried a pack

and I lived the free life of a rover.

>From the Murray's green banks to the dusty outback

I waltzed my Matilda all over.

Then in nineteen fifteen my country said "son",

There's no time for rovin' there's work to be done!

And they gave me a tin hat and gave me a gun

And they sent me away to the war.

Choruss

And the band played Waltzing Matilda

As the ship pulled away from the quay,

and amidst all the cheers, the flag waving and tears,

We sailed off for Gallipoli

2.

How well I remember that terrible day

How our blood stained the sand and the water

And how in that hell they called Suvla Bay

We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter

Johhny Turk he was waiting, he'd primed himself well

He showered us with bullets, and rained us with shell,

And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us to hell

Nearly blew us right back to Australia

And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda

As we stopped to bury the slain

We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs,

Then we started all over again

3.

They collected the crippled, the wounded and maimed

And they shipped us back home to Australia

The armless the legless, the blind and insane,

All the brave heroes of Suvla

And when our ship pulled in to Circular Quay,

I looked at the place where my legs used to be,

And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me -

To grieve, 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 -

And they turned all their faces away.

4.

And 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,

Reviving old dreams and past glories,

But the old men march slowly their bones stiff and sore,

Tired old men from a tired old war,

And the young people ask what are they marching for,

And I ask myself the same question.

But the band played Waltzing Matilda

And the old men still answer the call,

But year by year more old men disappear

Soon no one will march there at all.