The Dubliners - Mcalpine's Fusiliers (Live) текст песни

O, as down the glen came McAlpine's men
With their shovels slung behind them,
'Twas in the pub they drink their sub
And out 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 Horse-Face Toole, then I knew the rule:
No money if you stopped for rain.
Well, McAlpine's God was a well filled hod,
Your shoulders cut to bits and seared,
And woe to he who looked for tea
With McAlpine's Fusiliers.

I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea
Fell into a concrete stairs;
What Horse-Face 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 near has me beat
With Russian, Czech and Pole
On shuttering jams up in the hydro dams
Or underneath the Thames in a hole;
I grafted hard and I 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.