lirik lagu pecker dunne - mcalpines fusiliers
[intro]
’twas in the year of ’39 and the sky was full of lead. the germans were heading for poland and the paddys for holyhead. but the concrete it was cracking and the mud was falling in mcalpine searched manchester till he found darkie finn. come all you pincher kiddies and all long distance men. don’t ever work for wimpey, mcalpine or john laine. for they’ll throw you behind the big mixer and you skin it turns to tan and they’ll say “good on ya paddy” with your boat fare in your hand. the craic was good in cricklewood and we refusеd to leave the crown. thеre were glasses flying and biddies crying and the paddys were going to town. oh mother dear i’m over here and i’m never coming back. what keeps me here is the reak of beer, the ladies, and the craic
[verse 1]
down the glen came mcalpine’s men
with their shovels slung behind them
it was was in the pub they drank the sub
and it’s up in county homes you’ll find them
they sweated blood and they washed down mud
with pints and quarts of beer
and now we’re broke and we’re on the road
with mcalpine’s fusiliers
[verse 2]
stripped to the skin with darkie finn
way down upon the isle of grain
ah, with horse o’toole till we knew the rule
no money if we stopped for rain
for mcalpine’s god was a well~filled hod
with our shoulders cut to beats and seared
and woe to he who would look for tea
with mcalpine’s fusiliers
[verse 3]
i remember the day that the bear o’shea
he fell into a concrete stair
but the ganger man said when he found him dead
it wasn’t what a preist called prayers
i’m a navvy short was the one retort
it passed unto me ears
when the going was rough, oh you must be tough
with mcalpine’s fusiliers
[verse 4]
i’ve worked ’till the sweat, oh it near had me beat
with russian, czech and pole
shovelling sand up in the hydro dam
or underneath the thames in a hole
i’ve grafted hard and i’ve got me cards
and many a ganger’s fist across me ear
if you pride your life, don’t join by christ
with mcalpine’s fusiliers
if you value your wife, don’t by christ
with mcalpine’s fusiliers
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