| printable copy of the lyrics to MCALPINE'S FUSILIERS | |
| 'Twas in the year of 'thirty-nine
When the sky was full of lead When Hitler was heading for Poland And Paddy for Holyhead Come all you pincher laddies And you long-distance men Don't ever work for McAlpine For Wimpey, or John Laing. For You'll stand behind a mixer And your skin is turned to tan And they'll say 'Good on you Paddy' With your boat-fare in your hand The craic was good in Cricklewood And they wouldn't leave the Crown With glasses flying and Biddy's crying Sure Paddy was going to town Oh mother dear, I'm over here And I'm never coming back What keeps me here is the reek o' beer The ladies and the craic I come from county Kerry The land of eggs and bacon And if you think I'll eat your fish 'n' chips By Jeasus you're mistakin' |
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