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.
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 stripped to the skin with Darky Finn
Down upon the Isle of Grain.
With Horseface 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 stair.
What Horseface said, when he saw him dead,
Well, it wasn't what the rich call prayers.
"I'm a navvy short," was his 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 near had me beat
With Russian, Czech and Pole,
At shuttering jams up in the 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 pride your life, don't join, by Christ,
With McAlpine's Fusiliers.

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Picked this up just the other day from this very site - I think it was from Ezio in Italy.

Tony

HTML line breaks added. --JoeClone, 21-Oct-02.