The Band Played Waltzing Matilda
Eric Bogle| Original | Una versione in italiano cantabile, tradotta e cantata dalla... |
| THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA Now when I was a young man I carried me pack And I lived the free life of the rover. From the Murray's green basin to the dusty outback, Well, I waltzed my Matilda all over. Then in 1915, my country said, "Son, It's time you stop ramblin', 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 cheers, the flag waving, and tears, We sailed off for Gallipoli. And how well I remember that terrible day, How our blood stained the sand and the water; And of how in that hell that they call Suvla Bay We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter. Johnny Turk, he was waitin', he primed himself well; He showered us with bullets, and he rained us with shell -- And in five minutes flat, he'd blown us all to hell, Nearly blew us right back to Australia. But the band played "Waltzing Matilda," When we stopped to bury our slain, Well, 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 that 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 arse over head, And when I woke up in me hospital bed And saw what it had done, well, I wished I was dead -- Never knew there was worse things than dying. For I'll go no more "Waltzing Matilda," All around the green bush far and free -- To hump tents and pegs, a man needs both 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 me legs used to be, And thanked Christ there was nobody waiting for me, To grieve, to mourn and to pity. But 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 old comrades, how proudly they march, Reviving old dreams of past glory, And the old men march slowly, all bones stiff and sore, They're tired old heroes from a forgotten war And the young people ask "What are they marching for?" And I ask meself 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 Someday, no one will march there at all. Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda. Who'll come a-waltzing Matilda with me? And their ghosts may be heard as they march by the billabong, Who'll come a-Waltzing Matilda with me? | AND THE BAND PLAYED WALTZING MATILDA Quando sei un ragazzo tutti sapete com’è Sei una rondine in libero volo Io dalla costa di Melbourne al deserto outback Viaggiavo la mia vita da solo Ma un giorno il Paese mi venne a cercare C’è la guerra in Europa basta vagabondare Una bella uniforme mi fece indossare E così sono stato arruolato E sentivo Waltzing Matilda dalla banda sulla banchina E tra lacrime e grida la nave salpava dall’Australia a Gallipoli Quel giorno tremendo cancellare vorrei Il sangue sulla terra mantello In quell’incubo rosso chiamato Suvla Bay Eravamo come agnelli al macello Il Turco era forte, un mostro spietato Piovevano bombe dal cielo oscurato All’inferno in un’ora ci aveva spedito Ah, se fossi rimasto in Australia Ma sentivo Waltzing Matilda alla fine del combattimento Si contavano i morti i dispersi i feriti Poi riprese ad alzarsi il vento Ad ogni minuto mi dicevo “son vivo” Nel fuoco della cattiva sorte Al fatale destino ogni giorno sfuggivo Ma sempre vicina la morte Finché una bomba turca rimbalzò sul mio petto E quando mi svegliai senza gambe nel letto Almeno fossi morto mi son detto C’è qualcosa di peggio della morte Non ballerò più Waltzing Matilda, mai più nell’outback camminerò Non si piantano tende se non hai le gambe Mai più Waltzing Matilda per me Alla fine raccolsero zoppi e feriti E facemmo ritorno in Australia Senza arti ne parti noi soldati impazziti Noi eroi della baia di Suvla E mentre la nave stava per attraccare Sognavo quei posti dove amavo girare Ma nessuno per me grazie a Dio ad aspettare, a piangere, a compatire E sentivo Waltzing Matilda mi aiutavano a scendere giù Ma nessuno cantava, più nessuno parlava Gli occhi al cielo, non guardavano più Ed oggi seduto alla brezza di Aprile La parata mi passa davanti Vedo vecchi compagni orgogliosi marciare Sulla scia di ricordi distanti I più vecchi là indietro, tutti curvi e sciancati Di una guerra perduta eroi dimenticati E un ragazzo mi chiede “che fan quei soldati?” E io mi faccio la stessa domanda E la banda suona Waltzing Matilda e tutti la sanno a memoria Ma anno dopo anno sempre in meno saranno Chi ricorderà mai questa storia |
