Album Name : The Very Best of the Skids
Release Date : 2008-12-01
Song Duration : 5:33
Skids And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
When I was a young man I carried a pack And lived the free life of a rover From the Murray's green banks to the dusty outback I waltzed my Matilda all over Then in 1915, the country said, "Son, It's no time for roving, there's work to be done" And they gave me a tin hat and gave me a gun And they sent 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 Oh well I remember that terrible day When our blood stained the sand and the water And how in that hell that they called Souvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter Johnny Turk he was waiting He primed himself well Showered us with bullets and rained us with shells And in ten minutes flat he'd blown us to hell Nearly blew us right back to Australia And the band played Waltzing Matilda As we stopped to bury the slain We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs Then we started all over again They collected the cripples, the wounded and maimed And they shipped us back home to Australia The armless, the legless, the blind and insane All the brave wounded heroes of Souvla And when our ship pulled into Circular Quay And I looked at the place where me legs used to be I thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me To grieve and to mourn and to pity And the band played Waltzing Matilda As they carried us down the gangway But nobody cheered they just stood there and stared And then turned their faces away 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 Reliving old dreams and past glory But the old men march slowly, their bones stiff and sore Tired old men from the tired old war And the young people ask what are they marching for And I ask meself the same question But the band played Waltzing Matilda And the old men they answer the call But year by year those old men disappear Soon no-one will march there at all