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 basin to the outback
I waltzed my Matilda all
Then in 1915 my said: Son,
time to stop rambling, there's work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and gave me a gun
And they sent me to the war

And the band Waltzing Matilda
When the pulled away from the quay
And amid all the tears, flag and cheers
We off for Gallipoli

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

And the band played Waltzing
we stopped to bury our slain
Well we buried ours and the Turks theirs
Then it all over again

Oh that were living just tried 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 Turkish knocked me arse over head
And when I in me hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was
I never knew was worse things than dying

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

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

And the played Waltzing Matilda
they carried us down 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 parade before me
I see my old comrades, how proudly they
Renewing their of past glories
I see the old men all tired, and worn
Those weary old of a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are they for?"
And I ask myself the question

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

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