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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'll find them We sweated blood and we washed down mud with quarts and pints of beer But now we're on the road again with McAlpine's Fusiliers I've been stripped to the skin with Darky Finn down upon the Isle of Grain With Horseface O'Toole, I learned the rule, no money if you stop for rain When McAlpine's God was a well filled hod, your back all cut to bits and seared And woe is he who stopped for tea with McAlpine's Fusilers I remember the day when the Bear O'Shea fell into the concrete stairs What 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 came unto my ears When the going gets rough, well you must be tough with McAlpine's Fusiliers I've worked till the sweat nearly had me beat with a Russian, a Czech and a Pole With shuttering jams up in hydro dams or underneath the Thames in a hole I grafted hard and I got me cards and many a ganger's fist across me ears If you value your life, don't join by Christ, McAlpine's Fusiliers. Words & Music by Dominic Behan |