Oh it's 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 Flynn
Down in the Isle of Grain
With Horseface Toole sure I 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 went to look for tea
Was McAlpine's Fusiliers
Oh, ey oh, oh-o
Oh, ey oh, oh-o
I remember the day when the Bear O'Shea
Fell into a concrete stairs
What the Horseface said, when he found 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
Oh, when the going gets rough, well, you must be tough
With McAlpine's Fusiliers
Oh, ey oh, oh-o
Oh, ey oh, oh-o
Oh, ey oh, oh-o
Oh, ey oh, oh-o
I've worked till the sweat well it had me bet
With Russians, Czechs and Poles
On shuttering jams 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
And if you value your life, well, don't join by Christ
With McAlpine's Fusiliers
And if you value your life, well, don't join by Christ
With McAlpine's Fusiliers
