The Band Played Waltzing Matilda - The Pogues

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 you stop ramblin', 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 our ship pulled away from the quay

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

We sailed off to Gallipoli

And how well I remember that terrible day

How our blood stained the sand and the water;

And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay

We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter

Johnny Turk, he 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 right back to Australia

But the band played «Waltzing Matilda,»

When we stopped to bury our slain

Well, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs

Then we started all over again

And those that were left, well, we tried to survive

In that mad world of blood, death and fire

And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive

Though around me the corpses piled higher

Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head

And when I woke up in my hospital bed

And saw what it had done, well, and wished I was dead --

Never knew there was worse things than dying

For I’ll go no more «Waltzing Matilda,»

All around the green bush far and near--

To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs

No more «Waltzing Matilda» for me

So they collected the cripples;

the wounded, and 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 sailed 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, 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

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 old dreams and past glory

And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore

They’re tired old men from a forgotten war

And the young people ask «What are they marching for?»

And I ask meself the same question

But the band plays «Waltzing Matilda,»

And the old men answer the call

But as year by year, the numbers get fewer

Someday, 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?