The craic was good in Cricklewood and they wouldn't leave the Crown
With glasses flying and Biddys crying 'cause Paddy was going to town
Her mother dear(?) I'm over here and i'm never going back
What keeps me here is the reek o' beer, the women  and the craic
As down the glen came McAlpine's men
With their shovels slung behind them
It was in the pub that they drank their 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 on the Isle of Grain
With Horseface Toole,well,you knew the rules
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 that looks for tea
with McAlpine's Fusiliers
I remember the day that the Bear O'Shea
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
When the going is rough, well you must be tough
with McAlpine's Fusiliers
I've worked till 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 grafted hard and I got me cards
and many a ganger's fist across me ears
If you pride your life,well , don't work and scr，
with McAlpine's Fusiliers!
If you pride your life,well , don't join and scr,
with McAlpine's Fusiliers!