now when i was a young man and i carried my pack and i lived the free life of the rover from the murray s green basin to the dusty out back i waltzed my matilda all over then in 1915 my country said son it s time to stop rambling there s work to be done and they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun and they sent me away to the war and the band played waltzing matilda as the ships pulled away from the quay and amid all the tears flag waving and cheers we sailed off to galipolli and how i remember that terrible day how our blood stained the sand and the water and how in that hell that they called suvla bay we were butchered like lambs to the slaughter johnnie turk was ready oh he primed himself well he rained us with bullets and he showered us with shell and in five minutes flat we were all blown to hell nearly blew us all back home to australia but the band played waltzing matilda as we stuck to bury our slain we burned ours and the turks buried theirs and we started all over again those who were living just tried to survive in a mad world of blood death and fire and for ten weary weeks i kept myself alive while around me the corpses piled higher then a big turkish shell knocked me arse over head and when i awoke in my hospital bed and saw what it had done and i wished i was dead never knew there were worse things than dying for no more i ll go waltzing matilda all round the green bush far and near for to hump tent and pegs a man needs both legs no more waltzing matilda for me they collected 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 pulled in to circular key and i looked at the place where my legs used to be i thanked christ there was no one there 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 turned all 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 renewing their dreams of past glory i see the old men all tired stiff and sore the weary old heroes of a forgotten war and the young people ask what are they marching for and i ask myself the same question and the band played waltzing matilda and the old men still answer the call but year after year the numbers get fewer some day none 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