Pogues - And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda Chords

[Opening]
[A] [A] [A]
When I was a [D]young man, I [A]carried my pack, and I lived the free [E]life, of a [A]rover.
From the Murray’s green [E]basin, to the [D]dusty [A]outback,
I waltzed my [E]Matilda all [A]over, then in [E]1915, my [D]country said [A]”son”
“It’s [E]time to stop rambling, ’cause there’s [D]work to be [A]done.”
So they gave me a [D]tin hat, and they [A]gave me a gun, and they sent me [E]away to the [A]war.

[verse 2]
And the band played [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda, as we sailed [D]away from the [E]quay.
And [D]amidst all the tears, and the [A]shouts and the cheers,
We sailed off for [E]Gallipoli [E]

[verse 3]
How well I [D]remember that [A]terrible day, when the blood stained the [E]sand and the [A]water.
And how in that [E]hell that they [D]called Souvla [A]Bay, we were butchered like [E]lambs at the [A]slaughter.
Johnny [E]Turk, he was ready, He’d [D]primed himself [A]well, he [E]showered us with bullets,
And he [D]rained us with [A]shells, and in five minutes [D]flat, he’d blown [A]us all to hell.
Nearly blew us right [E]back to [A]Australia.

[verse 4]
And the band played [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda, as we stopped to bury our [E]slain.
And [D]we buried ours, and the [A]Turks buried theirs, and it started all [E]over [A]again.

[verse 5]
Now those who were [D]living, Did their [A]best to survive, in that mad world of [E]guts, blood, and [A]fire.
And for seven long [E]weeks, I [D]kept myself [A]alive, as the corpses [E]around me piled [A]higher.
Then a [E]big Turkish shell, knocked me [D]arse over [A]tit.
And [E]when I awoke, in my [D]hospital [A]bed, and saw what it had [D]done,
Christ I [A]wished I was dead, never knew there were [E]worse things than [A]dying.

[verse 6]
And no more I’ll go [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda, to the green bushes so far and [E]near.
For to [D]hang tent and pegs, a [A]man needs two legs, no more Waltzing [E]Matilda for [A]me.

[verse 7]
So they collected the [D]crippled, the [A]wounded and maimed,
And they shipped us back [E]home to [A]Australia.
The legless, the [E]armless, the [D]blind and [A]insane.
Those proud wounded [E]heroes of [A]Souvla, and [E]as our ship pulled into [D]Circular [A]Quay
I [E]looked at the place, where my [D]legs used to [A]be.
And thank Christ, there was [D]nobody, [A]waiting for me, to grieve and to [E]mourn and to [A]pity.

[verse 8]
And the band played [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda, as they carried us down the [E]gangway.
But [D]nobody cheered, they [A]just stood and stared,
And they turned their [E]faces [A]away.

[verse 9]
And now every [D]April, I [A]sit on my porch, and I watch the [E]parades pass [A]before me.
I see my old [E]comrades, how [D]proudly they [A]march, reliving the [E]dreams of past [A]glory.
I [E]see the old men, all [D]twisted and [A]torn, the [E]forgotten heroes of a [D]forgotten [A]war.
And the young people [D]ask me, what are [A]they marching for? And I ask my [E]self the same [A]question.

[Closing]
And the band plays [D]Waltzing [A]Matilda, and the old men still answer the [E]call.
But [D]year after year, their [A]numbers get fewer, someday no-one will [E]march there at [A]all.
[A]Waltzing Matilda, [D]Waltzing Matilda, [A]who’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with [E]me?

[outro]
[A] [A] [E] [A]