Luyện nghe bài hát The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

The Band Played Waltzing Matilda, Eric

When I was a young man I me pack
And I lived the free life of the
From the Murray's green to the dusty outback
I waltzed my all over
Then in 1915 my said: Son,
It's time to stop rambling, there's work to be
So they gave me a tin hat and gave me a gun
And sent me away to the war

And the played Waltzing Matilda
When the ship pulled away the quay
And all the tears, flag waving and cheers
We off for Gallipoli

It well I remember terrible day
our blood stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell call Suvla Bay
We were butchered lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk, he was ready, he himself well
He rained us with bullets, and he showered us with
And in five flat, we were all blown to hell
He nearly blew us home to Australia

And the band played Matilda
When we stopped to bury our
Well we buried ours and the buried theirs
Then it started all over

Oh those that were living just to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself
around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big shell knocked me arse over head
And when I awoke in me bed
And saw it had done, I wished I was dead
I never knew there was worse than dying

Oh no more go Waltzing Matilda
All around the bush far and near
For to tent and pegs, a man needs both legs
No waltzing Matilda for me

collected the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And they shipped us home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the and the insane
Those proud wounded of Suvla
And when the pulled into Circular Quay
I at the place where me legs used to be
And Christ there was no one there waiting for me
To grieve and to mourn and to

And the Band Waltzing Matilda
When they carried us the gangway
Oh nobody cheered, they stood there and stared
Then turned all their faces away

Now April I sit on my porch
And I watch the pass before me
I see my old comrades, how they march
Renewing their dreams of glories
I see the old men all tired, and worn
Those weary old of a forgotten war
And the people ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask the same question

And the plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men still the call
But after year, their numbers get fewer
Someday, no one will there at all

Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who'll come Matilda with me?
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the
So who'll come Matilda with me?