C - Blowhole Buskers

And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
Now when I C was a F young man I C carried a Am pack,
And I C lived the free G7 life of a C rover. F C
From the Murray’s green F basin to the C dusty Am outback,
Well I C waltzed my G7 Matilda all C over. F C
Then in G7 nineteen fifteen, my C country F said, C “Son,
It’s G7 time you stopped ramblin’, C there’s work to F be C done.”
So they gave me a F tin hat and they C gave me a Am gun,
And they C marched me G7 away to the C war,
Chorus: And the band played F Waltzing C Matilda,
As our C ships pulled a-Dm7 way from the G quay.
And F midst all the cheers, the flag C waving and Am tears,
We C sailed off for G7 Gal-lip-o- C li.
And how C well I re-F member that C terrible Am day,
How our C blood stained the G7 sand and the C water, F C
Of how in that F hell that they C called Suvla Am Bay,
We were butchered like G7 lambs at the C slaughter. F C
Johnny G7 Turk he was ready, he’d C primed F himself C well,
He G7 showered us with bullets and C rained us F with C shell.
And in five minutes F flat he’d C blown us all to Am hell.
Nearly C blew us right G7 back to C Australia.
Chorus: But the band played F Waltzing Ma -C tilda,
When we stopped to Dm7 bury our G slain, G7
We F buried ours and the C Turks buried Am theirs,
Then we C started all G7 over C again.
So they C gathered the F crippled, the C wounded and Am maimed,
And they C shipped us back G7home to C Australia. F C
The legless, F the armless, C the blind and Am insane,
Those C poor wounded G7 heroes of C Suvla. F C
And when G7 our ship pulled into C Circu - F lar C Quay,
I G7 looked at the place where my C legs used F to C be,
And thanked God there was F nobody C waiting for Am me,
To C grieve, to G7 mourn and to C pity.
Chorus: But the band played F Waltzing C Matilda,
As they C carried us Dm7 down the G gangway,
But F nobody cheered, they C just stood and Am stared,
Then C they all turned their G7 faces C away.
And C so now every F April, I C sit on my Am porch,
And I C watch the G7 parade pass C before me.
And I 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 C bones stiff F and C sore,
They’re G7 tired old heroes from a C forgot F ten C war.
And the young people F ask, “What are they C marching Am for?”
And C I ask my G7 self the same C question. ( continue in box)
To Index
189
Dm7
or just play Dm
But the band played F Waltzing C
Matilda,
And the C old men still Dm7 answer
the G call,
But as F year follows year, more old
C men dis- Am appear,
Someday C no-one will G7 march
there at C all.
C Waltzing Matilda, F Waltzing
Matilda,
C Who’ll come a Waltzing Ma- G7
tilda with C me.