Luyện nghe bài hát The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

The Band Played Waltzing Matilda, Bogle

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

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

It well I remember that day
When our blood stained the and the water
And how in that hell they call Bay
We butchered 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 minutes flat, we were all blown to hell
He nearly blew us back to Australia

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

Oh those that living just tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and
And for ten weary weeks I myself alive
While around me the piled higher
Then a big Turkish knocked me arse over head
And when I in me hospital bed
And saw it had done, I wished I was dead
I knew there was worse things than dying

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

They collected the wounded, the crippled, the
And they shipped us back home to
The armless, the legless, the and the insane
proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And the ship pulled into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where me used to be
And thank Christ there was no one there for me
To grieve and to mourn and to

And the Band Waltzing Matilda
When they us down the gangway
Oh cheered, they just 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 proudly march
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 question

And the band plays Waltzing
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 as they march by the billabong
So who'll come a-Waltzing with me?