Il 28 Luglio 1914, con la dichiarazione di guerra dell’Impero austro-ungarico al Regno di Serbia, aveva inizio la I guerra mondiale. “And the band played waltzing Matilda” unisce come solo la Poesia sa fare il dolore e lo straniamento del soldato e del reduce che ebbero la vita sconvolta da un conflitto che cambiò per sempre il mondo. Un piccolo omaggio a chi venne travolto dalla tempesta, spesso senza sapere e capire, con un pensiero particolare per mio nonno Armando, ragazzo del ’97 che come molti altri fu buttato nella mischia e divenne Cavaliere di Vittorio Veneto.

“Waltzing Matilda” in Australia e’ considerata un secondo inno nazionale. La storia originale è quella di uno “swagman” che ruba una pecora e, per sfuggire alla polizia, cade in un “billabong” (laghetti creati da fiumi in  secca) e affoga.
Probabilmente la canzone si riferisce ad un episodio avvenuto durante i giorni del violento sciopero dei tosatori nell’Australia occidentale del 1894.
Gli swagmen australiani erano lavoratori vaganti, soprattutto tosatori di pecore. Giravano per lo piu’ a piedi portando lo “swag”, una coperta arrotolata con dentro tutte le loro cose, a tracolla dietro la schiena come un fucile.
“Waltzing” deriva dal tedesco “auf der walz” (“vagabondare”). “Matilda” era il nomignolo dato allo swag.
In tedesco “Matilda” (da Mechthild, “donna da battaglia”) venivano chiamate le donne che seguivano i soldati durante la guerra per scaldare le loro notti e passò ad indicare l’uniforme grigia e il fagotto.
“Waltzing Matilda” (“Matilda balla il valzer”) fu cantata dalle truppe australiane mandate al massacro a Gallipoli, in Turchia, durante la I guerra mondiale (episodio narrato da Peter Weir in “Gallipoli”).
“And the Band Played Waltzing Matilda” è stata scritta dal folk singer e autore scozzese Eric Bogle nel 1971 e riproposta da molti artisti fra i quali Joan Baez, The Dubliners, Midnight Oil, The Irish Rovers. E dai Pogues.

When I was a young man I carried my pack
And I lived the free life of a rover
From the Murrays green basin to the dusty outback
I waltzed my Matilda all over
Then in nineteen fifteen my country said Son
It’s time to stop rambling ’cause 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 we sailed away from the quay
And amidst all the tears and the 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 how in that hell that they called Suvla Bay
We were butchered like lambs at the slaughter
Johnny Turk he was ready, he primed himself well
He chased us with bullets, he rained us with shells
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
As we stopped to bury our slain
We buried ours and the Turks buried theirs
Then we started all over again

Now 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
But around me the corpses piled higher
Then a big Turkish shell knocked me arse over tit
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 no more I’ll go waltzing Matilda
All around the green bush far and near
For to hump tent and pegs, a man needs two legs
No more waltzing Matilda for me

So they collected the cripples, 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 pulled 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 and 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 turned all their faces away

And now every April I sit on my porch
And I watch the parade pass before me
And I watch my old comrades, how proudly they march
Reliving old dreams of past glory
And the old men march slowly, all bent, stiff and sore
The forgotten heroes from a forgotten war
And the young people ask, “What are they marching for?”
And I ask myself the same question
And the band plays Waltzing Matilda
And the old men answer to the call
But year after year their numbers get fewer
Some day no one will march there at all

Waltzing Matilda, Waltzing Matilda
Who’ll go a waltzing Matilda with me
And their ghosts may be heard as you pass the Billabong
Who’ll go a waltzing Matilda with me?

Eric Bogle