School Spirit

This would be one of my all time favourite songs, and I make sure the kids hear it leading up to ANZAC Day each year. As Thursday will be our House Sports Day and I’ll barely see half of the kids for much of the day, they’re going to hear it tomorrow instead. With a bit of luck it will interest more of them into trying to drag their parents to the parade on ANZAC Day. I know some of them will be there, and one of them has all but dared me to meet him at the dawn service, but if it gets more of them there to see the real diggers walking by, then fantastic. If it just opens their eyes a little more to the history of our military and how we honour a defeat rather than a major victory like most nations, then that’s more than enough too.

It tells the story of a digger landing at Gallipoli on 25th April, 1915, and then returning home to Australian via Sydney on the first ANZAC Day, 25th April,1916. The words written here are the ones I use and learned, not quite the same as those Eric Bogle sings on the clip to the side. I play it in C as it’s easy to finger pick for me, but again, I sometimes use a capo to get it to a better key for the kids. Here is the progression for those who are interested. The verse and chorus are the same for each of the five sections. It’s in 3/4 time.

C / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /
C / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /
G7/ G7 / F / C / G7/ G7/ F / C /
C / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /Chorus
C / F / C / C / C / F / G7 / G7 /
F / F / C / Am / C / G / C G/G C /

And The Band Played Waltzing Matilda

Now when I was a young man, I carried a 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 the country said ’son,
There’s no time for roving, there’s work to be done’.
So they gave me a tin hat and they gave me a gun
And they sent me away to the war.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda as the ship pulled away from the quay.
And ‘midst all the cheers, the flag waving and tears, we sailed off for Gallipoli.

How well I remember that terrible day,
How our blood stained the sand and the water.
And how in the Hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter.
Johnny Turk, he was ready, he’d primed himself well.
He rained us with bullets, he showered us with shell.
And in five minutes flat they’d blown us all to Hell.
Nearly blew us right back to Australia.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda as we stopped to bury the slain.
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs – and we started all over again.

And those who were left, well we tried to survive
In that mad world of blood, death and fire.
And for ten weary weeks I kept myself alive
While around me the corpses piled higher.
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over head
And when I woke up in my hospital bed
And saw what it had done, well I wished I were dead.
Never knew there were worse things than dying.

For I’ll got no more Waltzing Matilda all around the wide bush far and free.
For to hump tents and pegs, a man needs both legs – no more Waltzing Matilda for me.

So they gathered the wounded, the crippled, 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 the ship pulled in to Circular Quay
I looked at the place where my legs used to be
And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me
To grieve, to mourn and to pity.

And the band played Waltzing Matilda as they filed us down the gangway.
But nobody cheered, they just stood and stared, and they turned all their faces away.

So now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me.
I see my old comrades, how proudly they march,
Reliving old days and past glories.
But the old men march slowly, their bones stiff and sore.
Tired old heroes from a tired old 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 year after year more old men disappear – one day no one will march there at all.

Technorati Tags: ANZAC Day, Eric Bogle, Waltzing Matilda, Gallipoli