As down the glen came McAlpine's men With their shovels slung behind them 'Twas in the pub they drank the sub And up in the spike you'll find them They sweated blood and they washed down mud With pints and quarts of beer And now we're on the road again With McAlpine's fusiliers I stripped to the skin with Darky Flynn Way down upon the Isle of Grain With the Horseface Toole then I knew the rule No money if you stop for rain McAlpine's God was a well filled hod Your shoulders cut to bits and seared And woe to he who to looks for tea With McAlpine's fusiliers I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea Fell into a concrete stairs What the Horseface 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 my ears When the going is rough, well you must be tough With McAlpine's fusiliers I've worked 'till the sweat has had me bet With Russian, Czech and Pole On shuddering jams up in the hydro dams Or underneath the Thames in a hole I grafted hard and I've got me cards And many a ganger's fist across me ears If you pride your life, don't join by Christ With McAlpine's fusiliers
Written by: RONALD JOSEPH DREW, BARNEY MCKENNA, JOHN EDMUND SHEEHAN, LUKE KELLY, CIARAN BOURKE, ROBERT LYNCH
Lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Group
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