McAlpine's Fusiliers

As down the glen came McAlpine's men

With their shovels slung behind them

'Twas in the pub they drank the sub

And up in the spike you'll find them

They sweated blood and they washed down mud

With pints and quarts of beer

And now we're on the road again

With McAlpine's fusiliers

I stripped to the skin with Darky Finn

Way down upon the Isle of Grain

With the Horseface Toole sure he knew the rule

No money if you stop for rain

McAlpine's God was a well filled hod

Your shoulders cut to bits and seared

And woe to he who to looks for tea

With McAlpine's fusiliers

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea

Fell into a concrete stairs

What the 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 reached unto my ears

When the going is rough, well you must be tough

With McAlpine's fusiliers

I've worked 'till the sweat has had me bet

With Russian, Czech and Pole

On shuddering jams up in the hydro dams

Or underneath the Thames in a hole

I grafted hard and I've 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.