MacAlpine's Fusiliers

03:30
Dublin Gulch
2016
Dominic Behan

Story

Tom Powers: lead vocals

John Joyner: fiddle

Mick Cavanaugh: banjo

Jim Schulz: harmony vocals, guitar

Conor Powers: cajon

Lyrics

MacAlpine’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 O’Toole then 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 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 grabbed it hard and I've got me cards

And many a ganger's fist across me ears

If you value your life, then don't join by Christ

With McAlpine's fusiliers