From the Dubliner's songbook. ISBN 0.7119.0476.6 Arrangements and adaptations are copyright Heathside Music Ltd. (I don't have a North American address.)

DUBLIN FUSILIERS

Well you've heard about the Indians with their tomahawks and spears,
And of the UN warriors, the heroes of recent years;
Also, I might mention, the British Grenadiers.
Well none of them were in it but the Dublin Fusiliers.
You've heard about the Light Brigade and of the deeds they've done,
And of the other regiments that many vic'tries won,
But the pride of all the armies, Dragoons and Carabiniers
Was that noble band of warriors, the Dublin Fusiliers.

CHORUS:
With your left foot and right about face, this is the way we go,
Charging with fixed bayonets the terror of every foe.
A glory to old Ireland as proud as buccaneers,
And a terror to creation are the Dublin Fusiliers.

Well, you've heard about the wars between the Russians and the Brits.
The sar' one day was reading an old copy of "Titbits"
And when the General came to him and threw himself down in tears
"We'd better run back like blazes, here's the Dublin Fusiliers."
The sar' commenced to tremble and he bit his underlip.
"Begorra, boys," says he, "I think we better take the tip.
The devil's come from Dublin and, to judge from what I hears,
They're demons of militiamen, the Dublin Fusiliers."

Well the sergeant cried, "Get ready, lads. Lay down each sword and gun.
Take off you shoes and stockings, boys, and when I tell yous, run."
They didn't stop but started and amidst three ringing cheers,
Came a shower of bricks and bullets from the Dublin Fusiliers.
The time that Julius Caesar tried to land down at Ringsend,
The coast guards couldn't stop them, so for the Dublins they did send,
And, just as they were landing, lads, we heard three ringing cheers:
"Get back to Rome like blazes. Here's the Dublin 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.
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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Regards

Frank - the old folkie. (My kids never get the last consonant of that expression right.)

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