Drill Ye Tarriers
Every mornin' 'bout seven o'clock, There were
twenty tarriers a-workin' on the rock. The boss
comes along and he says, "Keep still! And come
down heavy on the cast-iron drill!"
And drill ye tarriers, drill, Drill ye
tarriers, drill. For it's work all day
for the sugar in your tay, Down behind
the railway. And drill ye tarriers,
drill. And blast, and fire.
Our boss was a fine man to the ground, But he
married a lady six-feet 'round. She baked good
bread and she baked it well. But she baked it
hard as the holes in hell.
Our new foreman was Jim McCann. By God, he was a
damn mean man. Last week a premature blast went
off. A mile in the sky went big Jim Goff.
The next time payday came around, A dollar short
Jim Goff was found. When he asked what for came
this reply, "You're docked for the time you was
up in the sky."