Скачать с ютуб Building up & tearing England down - Dominic Behan в хорошем качестве

Building up & tearing England down - Dominic Behan

An irish folksong written in the late 60s by Dominic Behan. I suppose it was written as a sort of warning to the men emigrating to England for employment in those days, suggesting that the hills may not always have been greener on the other side for many of them. I got this song from a Franke Harte album that he recorded with Donal Lunny called ‘There's Gangs of Them Digging; Songs of Irish Labour’. lyrics below; I have won a hero's name with McAlpine and Costain With Fitzpatrick, Murphy, Ashe and Wimpey's gang I've been often on the road on my way to draw the dole When there's nothing left to do for Sir John Laing I used to think that God made the mixer pick and hod So that Paddy might know hell above the ground I've had gangers big and tough tell me tear it all out rough When you're building up and tearing England down In a tunnel underground a young Limerick man was found He was built into the new Victoria Line When the pouring gang had past sticking through the concrete cast Was the face of little Charlie Joe Devine And the ganger man McGurk said that Paddy ate the work When the gas main burst and he flew off the ground Oh they swear he said "Don't slack, I'll not be here until I'm back" Keep on building up and tearing England down I remember Carrier Jack with his hod upon his back How he swore he'd one day set the world on fire But his face they've never seen since his shovel it cut clean Through the middle of a big high tension wire I saw auld Balls McColl from the big flyover fall Into a concrete mixer spinning round Although his life was spent he got a fine head of cement As he was building up and tearing England down I was on the hydro dam the day that Pat McCann Got the better of his stammer in a week He fell from the shuttering jam and that poor auld stuttering man He was never ever more inclined to speak No more like Robin Hood will he roam through Cricklewood Or dance around the pubs of Camden Town But let no man complain Paddy does not die in vain When he's building up and tearing England down So come all you navvies bold do not think that English gold Is just waiting to be taken from each sod Or that the likes of you and me could ever get an OBE Or an knighthood for good service to the hod They've the concrete master race to keep you in your place The ganger man to kick you to the ground If you ever try to take part of what the bosses make When they're building up and tearing England down