Waltzing Matilda - as perfomed by The Pogues
Intro: A A A
             D            A
When I was a young man, I carried my pack.
                     E          A
And I lived the free life, of a rover.
         E              D
>From the Murray's green basin,
       A
To the dusty outback,
             E           A
I waltzed my matilda all over.
          E      D            A
Then in 1915, my country said "son"
       E           D
"It's time to stop rambling,"
             A
"Cos there's work to be done."
                   D
So they gave me a tin hat,
                   A
And they gave me a gun,
                 E            A
And they sent me away to the war.

                     D        A
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
              D            E
As we sailed away from the quay.
      D
And amidst all the cheers,
         A
And the shouts and the tears,
                  E       A
We sailed off for Galipoli

           D             A
How well I remember that terrible day,
                           E            A
when the blood stained the sand and the water.
     E          D
And how in that hell 
          A
that they called Souvla Bay
                       E            A
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
       E          D           A
Johnny Turkey was ready, He'd primed himself well.
   E                D
He showered us with bullets,
       A
And he rained us with shells.
                    D
And in five minutes flat,
           A
he'd blown us all to hell.
       E                     A
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
                    D        A
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
                 D        E
As we stopped to bury our slain.
    D
And we buried ours 
        A
and the Turks buried theirs,
                   E    A
And it started all over again.
                   D                 A
Now those who were living, Did their best to survive,
        E                             A
In that mad world of guts, blood, and fire.
        E          D
And for seven long weeks,
  A
I kept myself alive,
       E                       A
As the corpses around me piled higher.
       E           D                 A
Then a big Turkish shell, Knocked me arse over tit.
    E      D
And when I awoke
        A
in my hospital bed,
                    D
And saw what it had done,
         A
Christ I wished I was dead.
      E                                 A
Never knew there were worse things than dying.
                    D        A
And no more I'll go Waltzing Matilda,
                    D          E
To the green bushes so far and near.
       D
For to hang tent and pegs
  A
A man needs two legs.
                 E           A
No more Waltzing Matilda for me.
                      D             A
So they collected the crippled, The wounded and maimed,
                      E       A
And they sent us back home to Australia.
    E            D
The legless, the armless,
    A
the blind and insane.
      E                       A
Those proud wounded heroes of Souvla
    E           D           A
And as our ship pulled into Circular Quay
  E             D
I looked at the place 
         A
where my legs used to be.
                            D
And thank Christ, there was nobody 
A
waiting for me,
   E                          A
To grieve and to mourn and to pity.
                    D        A
And the band played Waltzing Matilda,
                   D            E
As they carried us down the gangway.
    D
But nobody cheered,
     A
They just stood and stared,
         E                  A
And they turned their faces away.
              D        A
And now every April, I sit on my porch,
      E                      A
And I watch the parades pass before me.
  E          D
I see my old comrades,
    A
How proudly they march.
  E                         A
Reliving the dreams of past glory.
  E           D        A
I see the old men, all twisted and torn.
    E         D
The forgotten heroes
     A
of a forgotten war.
                     D
And the young people ask me,
         A
What are they marching for?
    E                      A
And I ask my self the same question.
                   D        A
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda,
                      D          E
And the old men still answer the call.
    D
But year after year,
      A
Their numbers get fewer,
                    E           A
Someday no-one will march there at all.
A                 D
Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
A                                  E
Who'll come a waltzing matilda with me?
Outro:  A A E A