Just for the Helluva of it. :(. Talking about fu.ked up lives and wars and such.. Just some lyrics,
For all you War Mongers out there, here's a little song for ya.. <bng>
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The band played walzing matilda
When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of the rover.
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback,
I waltzed my Matilda all over.
Then in 1915, my country said, "Son,
It's time you stop ramblin',`cause there's work to be done."
So they gave me a tin hat, and they gave me a gun,
And they send me away to the war.
And the band played “Waltzing Matilda,"
As we sailed away from the quay,
And amidst all the tears, the flag waving, and the cheers,
We sailed off for Gallipoli.
And how well I remember that terrible day,
When the blood stained the sand and the water;
And how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was ready, he primed himself well;
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell --
And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell,
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.
And the band played “Waltzing Matilda,"
As we stopped to bury our slain,
And, we buried ours, and the Turks buried theirs,
Then we started all over again.
Now those who were living did they best to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for seven long weeks I kept myself alive
Though the corpses around me piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, Christ, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying.
And no more I'll go “Waltzing Matilda,"
So the green bushs so far and near--
For a hump tents and pegs, a man needs two legs,
No more “Waltzing Matilda" for me.
So they collected the crippled, the wounded, the maimed,
And they shipped us back home to Australia.
The legless, the armless, the blind, and insane,
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla.
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay,
I looked at the place where me legs used to be,
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me,
To grieve, and to mourn and to pity.
And the band played “Waltzing Matilda,"
As they carried us down the gangway,
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared,
Then they turned their faces away.
And now every April, I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reliving the dreams of past glory,
I see the old men all twisted and torn
The forgotten heroes of a forgotten war
And the young people ask me "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question.
And the band plays “Waltzing Matilda,"
And the old men still answer the call,
But year after year, their numbers get fewer
Someday, no one will march there at all.
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda
Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me?
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"Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head,
And when I woke up in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, Christ, I wished I was dead --
Never knew there was worse things than dying. ""
What can I say? |
