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From: <>
Subject: The Great War - A Tribute to our Fallen Relatives
Date: Tue, 10 Nov 1998 23:20:03 EST


A year ago about this time I was listening to a special radio program on the
Great War. I heard a haunting song called "And the Band Played 'Waltzing
Matilda' ".

It reminded my of my own relatives who gave their lives for their country in
the "War to End All Wars" and the three that followed. I heard it the program
re-broadcast last Saturday and vowed to get a copy of the song. It's on Eric
Bogle's CD "Scraps of Paper" (Flying Fish Records). He is a Scot by birth
and an Australian by choice. He wrote it to remember the soldiers of
Australia and New Zealand who gave much more than their fair share of blood at
Gallipoli in 1915. Here are the lyrics.

AND THE BAND PLAYED 'WALTZING MATILDA'
By Eric Bogle, 1975

Now when I was a young man, I carried me pack
And I lived the free life of the rover
>From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
Well I waltzed my Matilda all over.

Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin, there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they marched me away to the war.

And the band played 'Waltzing Matilda'
As the ship pulled away from the key
And amidst all the cheers, the flag-waving and tears
We sailed off for Gallipoli.

And how well I remember that terrible day
How our blood stained the sand and the water
And of how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.

Johnny Turk he was waitin', he primed himself well
He showered us with bullets and rained us with shell
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to hell
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

But the band played 'Waltzing Matilda'
When we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again.

And those that were left, well, we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death, and fire
And for ten weary weeks, I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher.

Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I woke up in m' hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well I wished I was dead
Never knew there was worse things than dying.

For I'll go no more 'Waltzing Matilda'
All around the green bush far and free
To hum, tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No more 'Waltzing Matilda' for me.

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us on back home to Australia
The legless, the armless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.

And as our ship pulled into Circular Key
I looked at the place where m' legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waitin' for me
To grieve, to mourn, and to pity.

But the band played 'Waltzing Matilda'
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then they turned all their faces away.

And so now every April I sit on me porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I see my old comrades how proudly they march
Reviving old dreams of past glories.

And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore
They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask what are they marching for
And I ask m'self the same question.

But the band plays 'Waltzing Matilda'
And the old men still answer the call
But as year follows year, more old men disappear
Someday no one 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 that billabong
Oh, come a-waltzing Matilda with me.
-----------------

John Jardine
Cincinnati, Ohio USA

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