The Pogues - The band played waltzing matilda

When I was a ^Fyoung man, I ^Ccarried my pack. And I lived the free ^Glife, of a ^Crover. >From the Murray's gre^Gen basin, To the ^Fdusty ^Coutback, I waltzed my ^Gmatilda all ^Cover. Then in ^G1915, my ^Fcountry said ^C"son" "I^Gt's time to stop rambling," F C "Cos there's work to be done." So they gave me a ^Ftin hat, And they ^Cgave me a gun, And they sent me ^Gaway to the w^Car.

And the band played ^FWaltzing ^CMatilda, As we sailed ^Faway from the ^Gquay. And ^Famidst all the tears, And the s^Chouts and the cheers, We sailed off for ^GGalipol^Ci

How well I ^Fremember that ^Cterrible day, when the blood stained the ^Gsand and the ^Cwater. And how in that ^Ghell F C that they called Souvla Bay We were butchered like ^Glambs at the ^Cslaughter. G F C Johnny Turk, he was ready, He'd primed himself well. He ^Gshowered us with bullets, F C And he rained us with shells. And in five minutes ^Fflat, he'd blown ^Cus all to hell. Nearly blew us right ^Gback to ^CAustralia.

And the band played ^FWaltzing ^CMatilda, As we stopped to bury our ^Gslain. And ^Fwe buried ours and the ^CTurks buried theirs, And it started all ^Gover ^Cagain.

Now those who were ^Fliving, Did their ^Cbest to survive, In that mad world of ^Gguts, blood, and ^Cfire. And for seven long ^Gweeks, F C I kept myself alive, As the corpses ar^Gound me piled ^Chigher. Then a ^Gbig Turkish shell, Knocked me ^Farse over ^Ctit. And ^Gwhen I awoke in my ho^Fspital ^Cbed, And saw what it had ^Fdone, Christ I ^Cwished I was dead. Never knew there were ^Gworse things than ^Cdying.

And no more I'll go ^FWaltzing ^CMatilda, To the green bushes so far and ^Gnear. For to ^Fhang tent and pegs A ^Cman needs two legs. No more Waltzing Mat^Gilda for ^Cme.

So they collected the ^Fcrippled, The ^Cwounded and maimed, And they shipped us back ^Ghome to ^CAustralia. The legless, the ^Garmless, F C the blind and insane. Those proud wounded ^Gheroes of ^CSouvla G F C And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay I ^Glooked at the place F C where my legs used to be. And thank Christ, there was ^Fnobody ^Cwaiting for me, To grieve and to ^Gmourn and to ^Cpity.

And the band played ^FWaltzing ^CMatilda, As they carried us down the gang^Gway. But ^Fnobody cheered, They ^Cjust stood and stared, And they turned their ^Gfaces ^Caway.

And now every ^FApril, I ^Csit on my porch, And I watch the ^Gparades pass ^Cbefore me. I see my old ^Gcomrades, F C How proudly they march. Reliving the ^Gdreams of past ^Cglory. I ^Gsee the old men, all t^Fwisted and ^Ctorn. The ^Gforgotten heroes of a ^Fforgotten ^Cwar. And the young people ^Fask me, What are ^Cthey marching for? And I ask my se^Glf the same ^Cquestion.

And the band plays ^FWaltzing ^CMatilda, And the old men still answer the ^Gcall. But ^Fyear after year, Their ^Cnumbers get fewer, Someday no-one will ^Gmarch there at ^Call.

^CWaltzing Matilda, ^FWaltzing Matilda ^CWho'll come a waltzing matilda with ^Gme?