Luyện nghe bài hát The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

The Band Waltzing Matilda, Eric Bogle

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

And the played Waltzing Matilda
the ship pulled away from the quay
And amid all the tears, waving and cheers
We sailed off for

It well I remember that day
When our stained the sand and the water
And how in that hell they call Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the
Turk, he was ready, he primed himself well
He rained us with bullets, and he showered us with
And in five minutes flat, we were all to hell
He nearly blew us back to Australia

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

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

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

They the wounded, the crippled, the maimed
And they us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind and the
Those proud wounded heroes of
And when the ship pulled Circular Quay
I looked at the place where me legs to be
And thank Christ there was no one waiting for me
To and to mourn and to pity

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

Now April I sit on my porch
And I the parade pass before me
I see my old comrades, how proudly they
Renewing dreams of past glories
I see the old men all tired, stiff and
Those weary old of a forgotten war
And the young people ask "What are marching for?"
And I ask myself the same

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

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