Now when I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback
Well I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It's time you stopped rambling  there's work to be done
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they marched me away to the war

And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As the ship pulled away from the quay
And amidst all the tears, the flag waving and tears shouts and the cheers
We sailed off to Gallipoli

How well I remember that terrible day
How the blood stained the sand and the water
And of how in that [bad word] that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was waiting, he primed himself well
He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shells
And in five minutes flat he'd blown us all to [bad word] 
Nearly blew us right back to Australia

But the band played Waltzing Matilda
When we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again

And those that were left, well we tried to survive
In a mad world of blood, death and fire
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
Though around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me [bad word] over head And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, I wished I was dead
Never knew there were worse things than dying
For I'll go no more waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and freer
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me

So they gathered the crippled, the wounded, the maimed
And they shipped us back home to Australia
The armless, the legless, the blind, the insane
Those proud wounded heroes of Suvla
And as our ship sailed into Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thank Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve to mourn and to pity
And the band played Waltzing Matilda
As they carried us down the gangway
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared
Then they turned all their faces away

And so now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I see my [bad word]  how proudly they march
Reviving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, old bones stiff and sore
The tired old heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, "What are they marching for?"
And I ask myself the same question

But the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men still answer the call
But as year follows year more old men disappear
Some day no one will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
 [bad word] a waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as they march by that billabong
 [bad word] a Waltzing Matilda with me?