Hey Paddy Irishman
Come on over here
We'll feed you on spam sandwiches
And sell you bitter beer
We'll issue you a shovel
And send you down the hole
And the man who owns your wellington boots
Will also own your soul

We're looking for recruits to join
The labourer's brigade
At times you will be overworked
But never overpaid
A few broken labourers
Is normal wear and tear
And you'll find that you belong to the man
Whose donkey-coat you wear

Listen Paddy Irishman
They're queuing up for you
The landladies and publicans
To name but just a few
With their hot hands on your money
They can laugh and joke
But there's damn few smiles from any of them
Whenever you go broke

For when your wind is broken
They will put you on the dole
They'll take away your shovel
And they'll give you back your soul
No more long draughts of Guiness
No more the singing pub
No more McAlpine's Friday
When you go up for your sub

So pay heed all young Irishmen
Don't join the building trade
Don't heed the ones who tell you
That your fortune can be made
For mortar dust can choke yoiu
And scaffolding can fall
Turn away and block your ears
Don't heed Britannia's call

Hey Paddy Irishman
Come on over here
We'll feed you on spam sandwiches
And sell you bitter beer
We'll issue you a shovel
And send you down the hole
And the man who owns your wellington boots
Will also own your soul