Waltzing Matilda

[A] [A] [A]
When I was a [D]young man, I [A]carried my pack.
And I lived the free [E]life, of a [A]rover.
>From the[E] Murray's green[D] basin,
To the [A]dusty outback,
I waltzed my [E]matilda all [A]over.
Then in 19[E]15, my [D]country said [A]"son"
"It's t[E]ime to stop [D]rambling,"
"Cos there's [A]work to be done."
So they gave me a t[D]in hat,
And they gave me a [A]gun,
And they sent me [E]away to the w[A]ar.

And the band played W[D]altzing M[A]atilda,
As we sailed a[D]way from the [E]quay.
And am[D]idst all the cheers,
And the s[A]houts and the tears,
We sailed off for [E]Galipoli[A]

How well I [D]remember that [A]terrible day,
when the blood stained the [E]sand and the [A]water.
And h[E]ow in that [D]hell
that they [A]called Souvla Bay
We were butchered like [E]lambs at the [A]slaughter.
Johnny [E]Turkey was [D]ready, He'd [A]primed himself well.
He [E]showered us with [D]bullets,
And he [A]rained us with shells.
And in five minutes [D]flat,
he'd blown [A]us all to hell.
Nearly [E]blew us right back to [A]Australia.

And the band played [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda,
As we stopped to [D]bury our [E]slain.
And [D]we buried ours
and the [A]Turks buried theirs,
And it started all [E]over [A]again.

Now those who were [D]living, Did their [A]best to survive,
In that [E]mad world of guts, blood, and [A]fire.
And for [E]seven long [D]weeks,
I [A]kept myself alive,
As the [E]corpses around me piled [A]higher.
Then a [E]big Turkish [D]shell, Knocked me [A]arse over tit.
And [E]when I [D]awoke
in my ho[A]spital bed,
And saw what it had [D]done,
Christ I [A]wished I was dead.
Never [E]knew there were worse things than [A]dying.

And no more I'll go [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda,
To the green bushes [D]so far and [E]near.
For to [D]hang tent and pegs
A [A]man needs two legs.
No more Waltzing [E]Matilda for [A]me.

So they collected the [D]crippled, The [A]wounded and maimed,
And they sent us back [E]home to [A]Australia.
The [E]legless, the [D]armless,
the [A]blind and insane.
Those [E]proud wounded heroes of [A]Souvla
And [E]as our ship [D]pulled into [A]Circular Quay
I [E]looked at the [D]place
where my [A]legs used to be.
And thank Christ, there was [D]nobody
[A]waiting for me,
To [E]grieve and to mourn and to [A]pity.

And the band played [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda,
As they carried us [D]down the gang[E]way.
But [D]nobody cheered,
They [A]just stood and stared,
And they [E]turned their faces [A]away.

And now every [D]April, I [A]sit on my porch,
And I [E]watch the parades pass [A]before me.
I [E]see my old [D]comrades,
How [A]proudly they march.
Re[E]living the dreams of past [A]glory.
I [E]see the old [D]men, all [A]twisted and torn.
The [E]forgotten [D]heroes
of a [A]forgotten war.
And the young people [D]ask me,
What are [A]they marching for?
And [E]I ask my self the same [A]question.

And the band plays [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda,
And the old men still [D]answer the [E]call.
But [D]year after year,
Their [A]numbers get fewer,
Someday no-one will [E]march there [A]at all.

[A]Waltzing Matilda, [D]Waltzing Matilda
[A]Who'll come a waltzing matilda with[E] me?

[A] [A] [E] [A]