Waltzing My Timor

Once a jolly Digger strolled down a jungle trail
Under the guns of the Red Rising Sun
And he sang as he bled and sweated through that killing ground:
"Help me, oh help me, East Timor, I'm done!

Help Me, East Timor. Help Me, East Timor
Though your blood floods the jungle you'll carry my gun
And he sang as he bled and sweated through that killing ground:
"Please come and help me, East Timor, My Son!

And the call had its answer as thousands helped the Diggers through
Risking their lives and their families' too
Without stint, without let they brought food and aid and comfort too
Helping the Diggers to get the job done!

Help Me, East Timor . . .

Then the Rising Sun fell and the Diggers took the short way home
"Thanks very much boys," they called as they sailed
"And if you ever need us, just send a note and we'll return
"Ask for our help and we never will fail!"

We never will fail you; never will fail you
Though our blood floods the jungle we never will fail
If you ever need us, just send a note and we'll return
Ask for our help and we never will fail!

Now Howard and Downer sit on their big fat useless bums
Selling the honour of the Diggers down the creek
The human cost is agony and treachery and burning flesh
Dja-Kali rides rampant and we turn the other cheek

We never will . . . 

(Sad verse)

Up groaned the Timorese, forced to concentration camps
Those that didn't burn and that still had their heads:
And their ghosts may be heard as you stroll down the East Timor trail
Help us, Australia, don't leave us . . . for dead!

Help us, Australia! Help us, Australia!
Our blood floods the jungle; we've nowhere to run:
You fiddle and equivocate and dither while East Timor burns
Help us, Australia -- ah, too late -- we are gone . . .


(c) Words & Music September 9, 1999, RICHARD MILLS

Unrestricted for non-profit use