Twas down the glen came McAlpines men
With their shovels slung behind them
Ah-twas in the pub that they drank the sub
Or down in the spike youll find them
Well they sweated blood and they washed-down mud
With pints and quarts of beer
And now were on the road again
With McAlpines Fusileers!
I stripped to the skin with Darkie Finn
Way down upon The Isle of Grain
With Horse-face Toole
I learnt the rule:
No money if you stop for rain!
For McAlpines God is a well-filled hod
Your shoulders cut-to-bits and seared
And woe to he who went to look for tea!
With McAlpines Fusileers!
I remember the day that The Bear OShea
Fell into a concrete stairs
What Horse-Face said when he saw him dead:
It wasnt what The Rich call prayers!
Im a navvy short! was the one retort
That fell unto my ears
When the going is rough then you must be tough!
With McAlpines Fusileers!
I worked til the sweat near had me bet
With Russian, Czech and Pole
At shuttering jams up in the hydro-dams
Or underneath The Thames in a hole!
Ive grafted hard, and Ive got me cards
And many a gangers fist across me ears
So if you pride your life, dont join by Christ
With McAlpines Fusileers!