<span style="color:#323232;">Now, when I was a young man, I carried my pack
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And I lived the free life of a rover
</span><span style="color:#323232;">From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Then in 1915, my country said, "Son
</span><span style="color:#323232;">It's time you stop rambling, 'cause there's work to be done"
</span><span style="color:#323232;">So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And they sent me away to the war
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And the band played Waltzing Matilda
</span><span style="color:#323232;">As the ship pulled away from the quay
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears
</span><span style="color:#323232;">We sailed off for Gallipoli
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">How well I remember that terrible day
</span><span style="color:#323232;">How our blood stained the sand and the water
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
</span><span style="color:#323232;">We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Johnny Turk, he was waiting, he primed himself well
</span><span style="color:#323232;">He showered us with bullets and he rained us with shell
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Nearly blew us right back to Australia
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">But the band played Waltzing Matilda
</span><span style="color:#323232;">When we stopped to bury the slain
</span><span style="color:#323232;">We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Then we started all over again
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Now those who were left did their best to survive
</span><span style="color:#323232;">In that mad world of death, blood, and fire
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive
</span><span style="color:#323232;">While the corpses around me piled higher
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And when I awoke in my hospital bed
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And saw what it had done - well, I wished I was dead
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Never knew there was worse things than dying
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda
</span><span style="color:#323232;">To the green bush far and free
</span><span style="color:#323232;">For to hang tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
</span><span style="color:#323232;">No more waltzing Matilda for me
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">So they collected the crippled, the wounded, the maimed
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And they shipped us back home to Australia
</span><span style="color:#323232;">The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
</span><span style="color:#323232;">I looked at the place where my legs used to be
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me
</span><span style="color:#323232;">To grieve, to mourn and to pity
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And the band played Waltzing Matilda
</span><span style="color:#323232;">As they carried us down the gangway
</span><span style="color:#323232;">But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And they turned all their faces away
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And so now every April, I sit on my porch
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And I watch the parade pass before me
</span><span style="color:#323232;">I see my old comrades, how proudly they march
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Reliving old dreams of past glory
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And the old men march slowly, their bones stiff and sore
</span><span style="color:#323232;">The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And I ask myself the same question
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">But the band plays Waltzing Matilda
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And the old men still answer the call
</span><span style="color:#323232;">But as year follows year, those old men disappear
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Someday no one will march there at all
</span><span style="color:#323232;">
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing matilda
</span><span style="color:#323232;">Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me
</span><span style="color:#323232;">And their ghosts may be heard
</span><span style="color:#323232;">As you pass by that billabong
</span><span style="color:#323232;">You'll come a waltzing Matilda with me.
</span>