This video has been declared a duplicate; transferring votes to the original video and killing this dupe - dupeof declared by gwiz665.

Wasted and wounded, it ain't what the moon did
I've got what I paid for now
see ya tomorrow, hey Frank, can I borrow
a couple of bucks from you, to go
Waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go waltzing
Matilda with me

I'm an innocent victim of a blinded alley
and I'm tired of all these soldiers here
no one speaks English, and everything's broken
and my Stacys are soaking wet
to go waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go waltzing Matilda with me

now the dogs are barking
and the taxi cab's parking
a lot they can do for me
I begged you to stab me
you tore my shirt open
and I'm down on my knees tonight
Old Bushmill's I staggered, you buried the dagger in
your silhouette window light to go
waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go waltzing
Matilda with me

now I lost my Saint Christopher now that I've kissed her and the one-armed bandit knows, and the maverick Chinamen, and the cold-blooded signs
and the girls down by the strip-tease shows go
waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go waltzing Matilda with me

no, I don't want your sympathy, the fugitives say that the streets aren't for dreaming now
manslaughter dragnets and the ghosts that sell memories
they want a piece of the action anyhow go
waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go waltzing Matilda with me

and you can ask any sailor, and the keys from the jailor
and the old men in wheelchairs know
that Matilda's the defendant, she killed about a hundred
and she follows wherever you may go
waltzing Matilda, waltzing Matilda, you'll go waltzing
Matilda with me

and it's a battered old suitcase to a hotel someplace
and a wound that will never heal
no prima donna, the perfume is on
an old shirt that is stained with blood and whiskey
and goodnight to the street sweepers
the night watchman flame keepers
and goodnight to Matilda too

Comment hidden because you are ignoring dag. (show it anyway)

Christoph Waltz was amazing as the nazi. Here's a nice ass-kissing interview with him on Adam Carolla's podcast.

There are a few puns in this song that the non-French speaker might miss and, while reading the subtitles, wonder what Brel was smoking when he wrote the lyrics.

- The chorus starts with "Une a valse à trois temps": a 3/4 time waltz
- Then we move on to "Une valse à quatre temps": 4/4 time waltz, still no pun, but wait!
- Next step is "Une valse à vingt temps": 20 times waltz but also sounds like a 20 year old waltz or a waltz danced by 20 year olds (the age of the protagonists).
- Then comes "Une valse à cent temps": 100 times waltz (also a 100 year old waltz) which Brel transforms to a very close "Une valse ça s'entend", a waltz that is heard (at every Paris cross road etc.)
- And finally "Une valse à mille temps": 1000 times waltz which sounds exactly like "une valse a mis le temps", a waltz took its time (to wait for 20 years etc.)

Thanks KP!

In reply to this comment by kronosposeidon:
*promote

I spent half my youth listening to country-western music, and I'll be damned if I can remember any lyrics to speak of.

The album I remember most is Willie Nelson's "Red Headed Stranger" which was a concept thing that my dad used to play on his 8-track.

And then there were all of the old favorites that fifth-rate bands would play at valley fairs where people of all ages would waltz and two-step on some old, worn-down basketball court in this or that county hall or fair ground.

Cans of Bud, bottles of Jack and Southern Comfort, country girls preening themselves in rear-view mirrors, the faint scent of chewing tobacco, an occasional fist-fight, and maybe getting lucky and caressing a pretty girl's breast in the moonlight, hidden somewhere safe from the crowd.

I remember you liking the Justin King video, so you should probably check out Owen, I think you'll like him:
http://www.videosift.com/video/Owen-The-Sad-Waltzes-of-Pietro-Crespi

Hey, I remember you liking some of the acoustic guitar sifts on here, so you might like this:

http://www.videosift.com/video/Owen-The-Sad-Waltzes-of-Pietro-Crespi

http://www.videosift.com/video/Owen-The-Sad-Waltzes-of-Pietro-Crespi

Acoustic awesomeness.

Broken Waltz: 33808,0,0,16,0,8464,24,0,0,16916,0,16,80,128,8,67872

Groove w/o downbeat: 0,0,122882,0,240,61440,0,0,15360,0,2,7682,482,2,0,2

Close encounters: 20744,0,0,4228,0,0,16912,0,36864,0,16896,32768,2112,65536,4096,0

Cannon: 8712,0,8192,256,17416,2048,1032,8320,33040,65536,32768,4104,8480,64,288,4

Reich: 74896,37448,18724,74896,37448,37448,74896,18724,37448,74896,18724,18724,74896,18724,37448,74896

Oh fuck, I just remembered another story that has a bit more of a point and is less evil, deceiving and such.

This takes place in Aarhus, where I study now, where the same American friend I mentioned above was visiting and playing for the first time there in a long time. So obviously we had to meet up and get hammered. Now, I had to get back with the last bus, around midnight, because I had to travel back to my island for a vacation at 12 noon. I had everything packed ready to go, except my harddrive, which I usually only remove at the last minute, but I was basically ready to go. So beer time.

We met up at the bar he was playing at, at 9 in the evening, I think. One beer took the next and suddenly it was 00:15 and my bus had just left. Fuck, oh well, I'll just have some fun and grab the first bus in the morning back and get a few hours sleep then.

Then came the shots. Fisherman, Jägermeister and other ugly, ugly stuff, and more beer. we stayed at the bar until about 2 or 3, when it closed down, and waltzed down the road looking for a new place to party on. We found a seedy little disco/bar thing, that we wandered into and had a bunch of tequila - I do ever love Tequila.

When it was 6 or 7'ish in the morning we were both heading back to our respective places. We had to take a bus on each side of the road, but at the same stop, so we just "walked" (nearly crawled) down to the bus stop and just hung there for a while. After a while, we had gotten in place on each side of the road, waiting for our respective buses. Mine came first so I hopped on and promptly fell asleep. I thought that this could do, because I only had to get off at the end point anyway, so I would regain consciousness before that (familiar bumps and whatnot). Well, 20 minutes in, I had no fucking idea where I was. Looked out, and couldn't recognize ANYTHING. So I was like, Oh Fuck...

I went up to the bus driver, who looked on me like I was a leper, and asked if it was going to the station I wanted to go to. He said "No, that's not this #11 that's the other #11 on the other side of the road...".

Well, fuck me. Both of us had gotten the wrong bus!

I eventually switched bus and got home to my place at, I think, 8 o'clock. And I promptly collapsed on my bed.

I had to be on a bus heading down to the train station at 12, so this could have gone completely wrong... and it did.

I woke up at 11:30, with a screaming headache, still woozy, and something didn't feel right. So I turned around and there was a nice big puddle of my own vomit in the middle of my bed. "Oh joy", I quietly thought to myself. Of course, that's in hindsight. At the time it was more like "aauuurrrgghhhhh".

I got the sheets of the bed and the bedspread off and put it in the hamper - no time to wash it anyway. Slowly, shakily I removed the harddrive from my computer (lucky, I can do that in my sleep), and tossed it in my bag and was on my way.

But wait! There's more!

In the bus, I had to be for about 30 minutes until it arrived, and halfway it hit a bump and something lurched inside me. "Ooooh fuuuck" I was having dry heaves and cold, cold sweat. In desperation, I grabbed a shirt from my bag and quietly vomited ever so slightly into it - it was even my favorite shirt! I slipped it back into the bag and was not at all in a good mood. 2 minutes after that a woman approached me and asked if my bag was supposed to have that seat all to itself - not the right time to be bitchy at all, if I had had any strength in me at all I would have throttled her where she stood, but alas I was a sick, drunk, tired, head-aching weakling, so I dragged my corpse to the second seat and put my bag on my lap. I was not a happy camper.

When I got to the train, I had to be on it for about 3-4 hours. Two times, I ran to the bathroom and puked again. Good times. The second time, I just stayed out there and fell asleep on the toilet for half an hour. Not my proudest moment.

When I finally arrived home, my dad thought I was dying. I was sick for three days - seriously, hung over, with the vomit and super-happy-fun times and all, for three fucking days.

Yeah, another sequence from the life of Nicki. I hope you enjoy my misery.

Tags for this video have been changed from 'watlz with bashir, good morning lebanon, hebrew, tank, merkava' to 'waltz with bashir, good morning lebanon, hebrew, tank, merkava' - edited by peggedbea

Be sure to click HQ.

The music is Max Richter's 'Shadow Journal' track, its available on the Waltz with Bashir original soundtrack.

Your video, Bob Dylan at The Last Waltz, has made it into your personal Highest Rated Videos listing. Congratulations on a job well done. For you contribution you have been awarded 1 Power Point.

http://www.videosift.com/video/Elliott-Smith-Waltz-1-live