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Band Played Waltzing Matilda
John Schumann
Behind The Lines
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Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack
and I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over

Then in 1915, my country said son
It's time you stopped rambling, 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 called Suvla Bay
we were butchered like lambs at the slaughter

Johnny Turk he was waiting, he'd primed himself well
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell
And in ten 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
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs
And 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, I wished I was dead
Never knew there was worse things than dyin'

For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda
all around the green bush far and free
To hump tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me

And so now every April, I sit on my porch
and I watch the parades pass before me
And I see my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reviving old dreams of past glories

And the old men march slowly, old 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 myself 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
Soon no one will march there at all
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