| I hear the oldies harking back to the old days
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| Work hard, respect your elders and the old ways
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| My grandma tells me about the war and her old mates
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| My great granddad barely ever told a soul, hey
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| Now his correspondence lay on pen and paper
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| But I find the cursive writing kinda hard to decipher
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| Apparently he joined in every annual veteran’s march
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| My grandma reflects maybe he remembered too much
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| I wonder how much he could have forgotten if he tried
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| Fought for king and country’s pride, twice he almost died
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| First time hair combed by a German bullet
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| And maybe that’s why she became a hairdresser, I don’t know
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| Left at 19 years of age
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| A country boy from Singleton way
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| Shipped to France, Wellard’s the name
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| Anything but to be labeled as a shirker
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| The shame of being sent a white feather in a letter
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| Life is hell
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| Churchill don’t know what he’s doing in the Dardonelles
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| The newspapers sterilized til it’s hard to tell
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| Say that General Hamilton is getting diggers mowed down at Lone Pine
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| Still they say «there's no dying»
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| And mum the stench of death is so trying, well
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| We fall in line behind the British line
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| And hell is all around this 700 kilometre borderline
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| That’s like a trench from Canberra to Melbourne, help me god
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| They’re sending wounded men back to the front
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| While in the training camps fresh enlisters dormant for months
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| 40 000 taken by trench foot, the feet rot
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| Knowing if you stick your head up you’re for sure to be shot
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| Try hand to hand combat when it’s pitch black and foggy
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| And unable to collect dead bodies, beyond sorry
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| Sorry for the sons of these nations, in death there’s no war reparations
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| Life is hell, this is hell
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| Write me soon, hope you’re well
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| Len Hall Gallipoli veteran
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| Gently passed away thinking we learned not a thing
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| Played the Commonwealth cannon-fodder, his ominous words
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| That if he had to do it again, he’d fight for the Turks
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| And the facts made way for the mythology, like you remember Bondy’s victory
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| speech
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| Great granddad, would you believe we’re the agressors now?
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| New technology, you should see all the weapons now
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| Listen closely when the diggers say that we’re forgetting how
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| You shouldn’t railroad your citizens to war unless you absolutely have to
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| Never sell a war you go to war to defend
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| More than alliances in support of your women and men
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| Only once has there been a direct threat
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| Forgetting wars that we still haven’t left yet
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| The next Tojo or Hitler I don’t know and who wants that close to home?
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| And in those days, they measured by the metres gained
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| As then today, still measured by the metres gained |