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 the free life of the rover
From the Murray's green to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all
Then in 1915 my said: Son,
time to stop rambling, there's work to be done
So gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And sent me away to the war

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

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

And the band Waltzing Matilda
When we stopped to our slain
we buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then it started all again

Oh those that were living tried to survive
In mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself
While around me the piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over
And when I in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I I was dead
I never there was worse things than dying

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

They the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the and the insane
Those wounded heroes of Suvla
And the ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the where me legs used to be
And thank Christ there was no one waiting for me
To grieve and to and to pity

And the Band played Waltzing
When they us down the gangway
Oh nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
they turned all their faces away

Now every I sit on my porch
And I the parade pass before me
I see my old comrades, how they march
Renewing their of past glories
I see the old men all tired, stiff and
Those weary old heroes of a war
And the young ask "What are they marching for?"
And I ask the same question

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

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