Текст песни The Band Played Waltzing Matilda - June Tabor
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,
Well,
I
waltzed
my
Matilda
all
over.
Then
in
1915,
my
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
marched
me
away
to
the
war.
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.
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
waitin',
he
primed
himself
well;
He
showered
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
me
hospital
bed
And
saw
what
it
had
done,
well,
I
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
free
--
To
hump
tents
and
pegs,
a
man
needs
both
legs,
No
more
"Waltzing
Matilda"
for
me.
So
they
gathered
the
crippled,
the
wounded,
the
maimed,
And
they
shipped
us
back
home
to
Australia.
The
armless,
the
legless,
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
nobody
waiting
for
me,
To
grieve,
to
mourn
and
to
pity.
But
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
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
of
past
glory,
And
the
old
men
march
slowly,
all
bones
stiff
and
sore,
They're
tired
old
heroes
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
still
answer
the
call,
But
as
year
follows
year,
more
old
men
disappear
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?
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