Notice: Undefined index: PATH_INFO in /var/www/chordiepro/chord.pere on line 794
And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda Eric Bogle
When [G]I was a [C]young man I [G]carried me [Em]pack
And I [G]lived the free [D]life of a [G]rover
From the Murray's green [C]basin to the [G]dusty Out[Em]back
I [G]waltzed my Mat[D]ilda all [G]over
Then in [D]1915 me [C]country said, [G]Son
It's [D]time you stopped rambling there's [C]work to be [G]done
So they gave me a [C]tin hat, and they [G]gave me a [Em]gun
And they [G]marched me aw[D]ay to the [G]war
[G]And the band played [C]Waltzing Mat[G]ilda
When the ship pulled aw[C]ay from the [D]quay[Dsus4] [D]
And am[C]idst all the [Am]tears, flag-[G]waving and [Em]cheers
We [G]sailed off for [D]Gallipo[G]li[Gsus4] [G]
And how [G]well I re[C]member that [G]terrible [Em]day
When our [G]blood stained the [D]sand and the [G]water
And how in that [C]hell that they [G]call Suvla [Em]Bay
We were [G]butchered like [D]lambs at the [G]slaughter
Johnny [D]Turk he was ready, he'd [C]primed himself [G]well
He [D]rained us with bullets, and he [C]showered us with [G]shells
And in five minutes [C]flat he'd [G]blown us all to [Em]hell
Nearly [G]blew us back [D]home to Austr[G]alia
[G]And the band played [C]Waltzing Mat[G]ilda
When we stopped to [C]bury our [D]slai[Dsus4]n[D]
[C]We buried [Am]ours, and the [G]Turks buried [Em]theirs
Then we [G]started all [D]over ag[G]ain[Gsus4] [G]
And t[G]hose that were [C]left, well, we [G]tried to sur[Em]vive
In that [G]mad world of [D]blood, death and [G]fire
And for ten weary [C]weeks I kept [G]myself al[Em]ive
While ar[G]ound me the [D]corpses piled [G]higher
Then a [D]big Turkish shell knocked me [C]arse over [G]head
And [D]when I awoke in me [C]hospital [G]bed
And saw what it had [C]done, well, I [G]wished I was [Em]dead
Never [G]knew there was [D]worse things than [G]dying
[G]So no more I'll go [C]Waltzing Mat[G]ilda
All around the green [C]bush far and [D]near[Dsus4] [D]
To [C]hump tent and [Am]pegs a [G]man needs both [Em]legs
No more [G]Waltzing Mat[D]ilda for [G]me[Gsus4] [G]
So they [G]gathered the [C]wounded, the [G]crippled, the [Em]maimed
And they [G]shipped us back [D]home to Austr[G]alia
The armless, the [C]legless, the [G]blind, the in[Em]sane
Those [G]proud wounded [D]heroes of [G]Suvla
And [D]when the ship pulled into [C]Circular [G]Quay
I [D]looked at the place where me [C]legs used to [G]be
And thanked Christ there was [C]no one there [G]waiting for [Em]me
To [G]grieve and to [D]mourn and to [G]pity
[G]And the band played [C]Waltzing Mat[G]ilda
When they carried us [C]down the gang[D]way[Dsus4] [D]
But [C]nobody [Am]cheered, they just [G]stood there and [Em]stared
Then they [G]turned all their [D]faces a[G]way[Gsus4] [G]
So [G]now every [C]April I [G]sit on my [Em]porch
And I [G]watch the par[D]ade pass be[G]fore me
I see my old [C]comrades how [G]proudly they [Em]march
Re[G]newing old [D]dreams of past [G]glory
And the [D]old men march slowly, all [C]bones stiff and [G]sore
They're [D]tired old heroes from a [C]forgotten [G]war
And the young people [C]ask, "What are t[G]hey marching f[Em]or?"
And [G]I ask my[D]self the same [G]question
[G]And the band plays [C]Waltzing Mat[G]ilda
And the old men still [C]answer the [D]call[Dsus4] [D]
But [C]year after [Am]year their [G]numbers are [Em]fewer
Someday [G]no one will [D]march there at [G]all[Gsus4] [G]
[G]Waltzing Matilda, [C]Waltzing Matilda
[G]Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with [D]me?
And their [G]ghosts may be [D]heard as [Em]they march by the [C]Billabong
[C]Who'll come a-[G]Waltzing Ma[D7]tilda with [G]me?
Important: The song above is NOT stored on the Chordie server. The original song is hosted at www.guitaretab.com. Chordie works as a search engine and provides on-the-fly formatting. Chordie does not index songs against artists'/composers' will. To remove this song please click here.
