There's also "The Sick Note" aka dear boss, aka why Paddy's not at work today, attributed to Pat Cooksey:

Dear sir, I write this note to you, to tell you of my plight.
For at the time of writing it, I'm not a pretty sight,
Me body is all black and blue, my face a deathly gray,
And I write this note to say why I am not at work today.

While working on the fourteenth floor, some bricks I had to clear,
But throwing them down from such a height, was not a good idear.
The foreman wasn't very pleased, he is an awkward sort,
And he made me cart them down the bloody ladders bend me heart.

Now clearing all these bricks by hand, it was so very slow,
So I hoisted up a barrel, and secured the rope below,
But in me haste, to do the job, I was to blind to see,
That a barrel full of building bricks was heavier than me.

As soon as I'd untied the rope, the barrel fell like lead,
And clinging tightly to the rope, I started up instead.
I shot up like a rocket, and to my dismay I found,
That halfway up I met that bloody barrel coming down.

It severed me left shoulder, as toward the ground it sped,
And as I reached the top, I banged the pulley with me head.
But I clung on tightly not with shock, from this almighty blow,
As the barrel spilled out half its bricks, some fourteen floors below.

I now outweighed the barrel and fell towards the floor,
And the barrel having spilled its bricks, started up once more,
As I sped toward the ground, me body wracked with pain,
And halfway down I met the bloody barrel once again.

The force of this collision, halfway down the office block,
Caused multiple abrasions, and a nasty case of shock,
But I clung on tightly to the rope, as I fell towards the ground,
And there I landed on the broken bricks the barrel'd scattered round.

As I lay there bleeding on the ground, I thought I'd past the worst,
But the barrel hit the pulley wheel, and then the bottom burst.
A shower of bricks rained down on me, I did not have a hope,
and as I lay there bleeding on the ground, I let go of the bloody rope.

The barrel now being heavier, started down once more,
And landed right across me, as I lay there on the floor,
It broke three ribs and my left arm, and I write this note to say,
I hope you'll understand why I'm not at work today.

and, in a more belligerent mood, Building up and tearing England Down:

BUILDING UP AND TEARING ENGLAND DOWN

I have won the hero's name
With McAlpine and Costain
FitzMurphy Ash and Wimpey's gangs
I've been often on the road
On me way to draw the dole
There's nothing left to do for Johnny Laing
I used to think that God
Made the mixer pick and hod
So that Paddy might know hell above the ground
I've had gangers big and tough
Tell me tales old and rough *
When you're building up and tearing England down.

In the tunnel underground
A young Limmerick man was found
He was built into the New Victoria Line
When the bonus gang had past
Sticking from the concrete cast
Was the face of little Charlie Joe Devine
A ganger named McGirck
Made Paddy hate the work
When a gas-main burst he flew off the ground
Oh they swore he said gone slack
I won't be here untill I'm back
Keep on building up and tearing England down

I remember Jack McCann
That poor old stuttering man
Felt the better for his stammer in a week
And that poor old stuttering man
He fell from a shuttering jam
And was never ever more
Inclined to speak.
No more like Robin Hood will he roam down Cricklewood
Or dance around the pubs of Camden Town
Oh let no man complain
Sure no Pat can die in vain
When you're building up and tearing England down.

I remember Carrier Jack
With his hod upon his back
He swore he'd one day set the world on fire
But his face they'd never seen
Filth! his shovel it cut clean
Through the middle of a big high tension wire
I saw the big McCall
From a big flyover fall
Into a concrete mixer spinning round
O it was not his intent
He got a fine head of cement
While building up and tearing England down.

So come all you navies bold
Who may think that English gold
Is just waiting to be taken from each sod
Or the likes of you and me
Would ever get an O.B.E.
Or a knighthood for good service to the hod
There's a concrete master race
To keep you in your place
And a ganger man to knock you to the ground
If you ever try to take
Part of what the bosses make
When you're building up and tearing England down.
When you're building up and tearing England down.