Lorenzo Bertazzo

Lorenzo Bertazzo


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Anzac (Born in SW WA)

Written By: Lorenzo Bertazzo

ANZAC (Born in SW WA)

Born in South West WA in 1893
Farming wheat and raising sheep was the Australian way
Nothing ever happened, in this far of land
So far away from Europe where our heritage began

I dreamed of far off places, the names of which I’d heard
Evoking raw emotion with the mention of each word
I said one day I’ll be there, one day I’ll see it all
All young men dream of seeing the world

Then one day it all happened, the papers broke the news
A Great War it had broken, the war to end all wars
All the young Australians, eager for the fray
Would be there forever, King and country all the way.

But my father he had seen it, the ugly face of war
For you see he was a veteran of the second Boer war,
Where there he’d seen the carnage out on Spion Kop
A taste of what was in the air to come.

I heeded not my father’s words as I did steal away
To the local showgrounds, with the light horse on parade
They ambled round so easily about the county fair
The young girls thought them dashing with their feathers in the air

Well I showed them all my riding skills, as I tried out for the team
A life of Horse and Marksmanship, held me in high esteem.
They marched us off to training camp, as loved ones waved goodbye.
Many for the last time of our lives.

We headed off from King George sound in the town of Albany.
Young men of the AIF bound for Gallipoli.
We spent our last days drinking beer and chasing skirt around,
The town’s folk were all terrified by what was going down.

Our last days in Australia were spent in harmony,
So different from the horror, that we were all to see
The townsfolk waved their banners as we marched down to the Quay.
They cheered us on our way to victory.

We disembarked in Cairo; King Farouk took us to town
We posed upon the Pyramids, as the sun was going down
The poor old British officer, we treated him with scorn
And out of our audacity a legend had been born

Four months we spent in Egypt where we trained to meet the Hun
We etched our names in ancient stone beneath the setting sun
Soon enough the call up came, Gallipoli she called
Every man prepared himself for war

Our oarsmen pressed the landing boats upon that fatal shore
The first wave met the Turkish guns, their cannons hungered more
Eight thousand men got blown to hell upon that foreign sand
We dug in deep upon the steeps to make our final stand

Well we toiled in Gallipoli for at least six months or more
Our snipers took a hefty toll, our Vickers even more
So many of my cobbers they were slaughtered every day
We left that place in darkness slipped away

From there we did our tour, of the ancient world
The deep wells of Beersheba, the blood of Flanders fields
The horror of the western front, the poppies of the Somme
In blood we traded liberty for those who where to come

Now I dream of my old shearing shed, where my tally tops the score
A better way to prove myself than in this bloody war
So tell me was it worth it all the blood and sweat and tears
We’d been fighting in these trenches now for years

So tell me where’s the honour, of dying in the mud is
Shrapnel in your belly, in your chest a rifle slug
And who’ll be there to save me when I’m in my final hour
Alone and on the fast side of the world

And what’s the point of dying with bullets in your back
Or cut to bits by crossfire under enemy attack
And who will tell our mothers, that their sons aren’t coming back
Alone and on the far side of the world