The Mudcat Café TM
Thread #16925 Message #2760219
Posted By: Jim Carroll
05-Nov-09 - 12:41 PM
Thread Name: Origins: McAlpine's Fusiliers (Dominic Behan?)
Subject: RE: Origins: McAlpine's Fusiliers (Dominic Behan?)
I am sorting out and digitising our old song texts and I came across this, given to us by a local friend.
Wonder if anybody out there knows anything about it - Ultan, maybe, or can correct any discrepencies???
Jim Carroll
THE MEN O' '39
Given to us by a local friend, Michael Falsey. Michael is a local fisherman and musician from Quilty who worked in the building trade in England in the 1940s and 50s.
Come all you Pincher Kiddies and all long distance men,
You may be over in this land, nine years or maybe ten,
You may have tramped this country o'er from Plymouth to the Tyne,
But there's not a word about the boys sir came in '39.
There's not a word about the lads from old Kinsale,
And took the road to Dublin; from Dun Laoghaire they did sail.
The man up in the Globe Hotel, he gave them the 'o'grand',
Saying, good luck upon you Paddy, with the passport in your hand.
Some of those Pincher Kiddies came when England needed men,
His catchword was to catch for the famous Darky Finn.
To slave behind a mixer until your skin turned tanned,
And to say, good on you Paddy, with the passport in your hand.
We travelled up from Liverpool, down to sunny Cornwall;
We got off the bus and scampered when the bombs began to fall.
As Hitler, with his doodlebugs upon us all did land,
We tote the gun with their gas masks on and our passports in our hand.
We worked along the slipways, on the runways and the docks,
And the fourteen blue card numbers soon had us on the rocks.
We prayed to god in heaven above and for DeValera's band.
And we'll cast our vote and take the boat to Erin's lovely land.
Now all of you who stayed at home and never crossed the pond,
And didn't work for Wimpey, McAlpine for John Laing,
Or slave behind a mixer until your skin is tanned,
And to say goodbye to you Paddy, with your passport in your hand.
Now our six months and is nearly up and we'll be going home.
We'll tell the welfare officer we never more will roam,
We'll say farewell to all the girls we met up in the Strand,
And we'll bid adieu and change at Crewe with our passports in our hand.