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neck - mcalpine's fusileers lyrics

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twas down the glen came mcalpine’s men,
with their shovels slung behind them,
ah- twas in the pub that they drank the sub,
or down in the spike you’ll find them,
well 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 fusileers!

i stripped to the skin with darkie finn,
way down upon the isle of grain,
with horse-face toole,
i learnt the rule:
no money if you stop for rain!
for mcalpines’ god is a well-filled hod,
your shoulders cut-to-bits and seared,
and woe to he who went to look for tea!
with mcalpine’s fusileers!

i remember the day that the bear o’shea
fell into a concrete stairs,
what horse-face said when he saw him dead:
it wasn’t what the rich call prayers!
i’m a navvy short! was the one retort,
that fell unto my ears,
when the going is rough then you must be tough!
with mcalpine’s fusileers!

i worked til the sweat near had me bet,
with russian, czech and pole,
at shuttering jams up in the hydro-dams,
or underneath the thames in a hole!
i’ve grafted hard, and i’ve got me cards,
and many a gangers’ fist across me ears,
so if you pride your life, don’t join by christ
with mcalpines fusileers!

- neck lyrics

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