As down the glen rode McAlpine's men
With their shovels slung behind them
'Twas in the pub, that they drank their sub
And it's up in the spike you will find them
Well, they sweated blood and washed down mud
With pints and quarts of beer
And now we are on the road again
God damn and blast their ears
I stripped to the skin with Darky Fynn
Down upon the Isle of Grain
With Horseface Toole, now I knew the rule
No bonus if you stop for rain
McAlpine's god was the well filled hod
With your shoulders cut to bits and seared
And woe to he went to look for tea
With McAlpine's fusiliers
I've worked till sweat, has had me bet
With Russian, Czech and Pole
On shuttered jams up in the hydro dams
And down beneath the Thames in a hole
I've grafted hard and got me cards
And many's a gangers fist across me ears
When the going is rough, you must be tough
With McAlpine's fusiliers
I remember the day, the bear O'Shae
Fell into a concrete stairs
What 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
So if you pride your life, don't join by christ
With McAlpine's fusiliers