The Dubliners - Mcalpine's Fusiliers

McAlpine's Fusiliers

As down the glen came McAlpine's men
With their shovels slung behind them
It was in the pub that they drank their sub
Or down in the spike you will find them
They sweated blood and they washed down mud
With pints and quarts of beer
But now we're on the road again
With McAlpine's Fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with Darky Finn
Way down upon the Isle of Grain
With Horse-face Toole I learned the rule,
No money if you stop for rain
For McAlpine's God is a well-filled hod
With your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he who looks for tea
With McAlpine's Fusiliers

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea
Fell into a concrete stairs
What Horse-face said, when he saw him dead
Well it wasn't what the rich call prayers
I'm a navvy short, was the one retort
That reached unto our ears
When the going is rough, well you must be tough
With McAlpine's Fusiliers

I've worked till the sweat near had me beat
With Russian, Czech and Pole
As shuttering jams up in the hydro dams
Or underneath the Thames in a hole
I grafted hard and I got me acrds
And many a ganger's fist across me ears
If you pride your life, don't join, by Christ
With McAlpine's Fusiliers