Songs "T"



Eric Bogle


[C] When I was a [F] young man I [C] carried a [Am] pack

and I [C] lived the free [G7] life of a [C] rover.

From the [C] Murray's green [F] basin to the [C] dusty [Am] outback

I [C] waltzed my [G7] Matilda all [C] over.

Then in [G7] nineteen fifteen my [F] country said [C] "son,

There's no [G7] time for rovin' there's [F] work to be [G7] done!"

And they [C] gave me a [F] tin hat and [C] gave me a [Am] gun

And they [C] sent me [G7] away to the [C] war.


And the [C] band played [F] Waltzing [C] Matilda,

As the ship pulled away from the [Dm] quay,

And [G7] amidst all the [F] cheers, the flag [C] waving and [Am] tears,

We [C] sailed off for [G7] Gallipo-[C]-li


[C] How well I [F] remember that [C] terrible [Am] day,

How our [C] blood stained the [G7] sand and the [C] water

And [C] how in that [F] hell that they [C] called Suvla [Am] Bay,

We were [C] butchered like [G7] lambs at the [C] slaughter

Johhny [G7] Turk he was waiting, he'd [F] primed himself [C] well.

He [G7] showered us with bullets, and [F] rained us with [G7] shell,

And in [C] five minutes [F] flat, he'd [C] blown us to [Am] hell.

Nearly [C] blew us right [G7] back to Aus-[C]-tralia


And the [C] Band Played [F] Waltzing [C] Matilda,

As we stopped to bury the [Dm] slain

[C] We buried [F] ours and the [C] Turks buried [Am] theirs,

Then we [C] started all [G7] over [C] again


[C] They collected the [F] crippled, the [C] wounded and [Am] maimed,

And they [C] shipped us back [G7] home to [C] Australia

[C] The armless the [F] legless, the [C] blind and [Am] insane,

All the [C] brave wounded [G7] heroes of [C] Suvla

And [G7] when our ship pulled in to [F] Circular [C] Quay,

[G7] I looked at the place where my [F] legs used to [G7] be,

And thanked [C] Christ there was [F] nobody [C] waiting for [Am] me

To [C] grieve, to [G7] mourn and to [C] pity.


And the [C] band played [F] Waltzing [C] Matilda,

As they carried us down the gang-[Dm]-way,

But [C] nobody [F] cheered, they [C] just stood and [Am] stared

And they [C] turned all their [G7] faces [C] away.


And so [C] now every [F] April I [C] sit on my [Am] porch,

And I [C] watch the [G7] parade pass [C] before me,

And I [C] see my old [F] comrades how [C] proudly they [Am] march,

[C] Reviving old [G7] dreams and past [C] glories,

But the [G7] old men march slowly their [F] bones stiff and [C] sore,

[G7] Tired old men from a [F] tired old [G7] war,

And the [C] young people [F] ask what are [C] they marching [Am] for,

And [C] I ask my-[G7]-self the same [C] question.


But the [C] band played [F] Waltzing [C] Matilda

And the old men still answer the [Dm] call,

But [C] year after [F] year more old [C] men disap-[Am]-pear

Someday [C] no one will [G7] march there at [C] all.







Back to My Song Book