The Foreman O’Rourke

Well maybe I’m right and maybe I’m wrong,
Maybe I shouldnae go singing’ this song,
But a jury decided, and you may as well,
That a fella like me should be roasting in Hell.
Now I had a gaffer his name was O’Rourke,
And he had a terrible passion for work,
Oh in miles and spades he took all he could see,
Though he never was greedy, he gave it to me.
Yeuch hi! Yeuch 'til I fall, Yeuch hi! Yeuch 'til I dee..
One day at the work I went round for a smoke,
The door it burst open and there stood O’Rourke,
Well he started to swear and he geed me his curse,
He insulted my Mother and that was far worse.
He jumped for my throat and it died me a fright,
I was quick on my feet though and stepped to the right,
There was nothing to stop him this terrible man,
’Til he landed arse up with his heid in the pan.
I was trembling’ wi’ fear as his head gie a thud,
I looked down and noticed his clashes were aw mud,
I knew it was certain to upset his wife,
For they’d never been dirty a day in his life,
He would need to be cleaned up before he went hame,
For I knew he could never have faced his wee dame,
Yet it wasnae his claithes was the worst o’ his plight,
For his heid was still stuck there, a terrible sight
I looked down upon him and unbuckled my belt,
Oh ye never could feel the compassion I felt,
I’ll wash all his claithes were the words that I said,
Ach, and while I'm about it, I’ll wash the mans head.
In Barlinnie I wait for the man tae come roond,
That’ll pull on the lever and let me drap doon,
And they’ll pray for O’Rourke as they gie me the tug,
For they’ll hang me th’morra for pulling’ the plug!