Here’s a song about an Irish navvy, working (in harsh conditions) on the railroads of England. Oddly enough, this was often sung as a sea chanty.

In eighteen hundred and forty-one
Me corduroy britches I put on
Me corduroy britches I put on
To work upon the railway, the railway
I’m weary of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-two
From Hartlepool, I roved to Crewe
And found meself a job to do
Working on the railway
I was wearing
corduroy britches, digging ditches
pulling switches, dodging hitches
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-three
I broke me shovel across me knee
And I went to work for the company
On the Leeds and Selby railway
I was wearing
corduroy britches, digging ditches
pulling switches, dodging hitches
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-four
I landed on the Liverpool shore
Me belly was empty, me hands were raw
With working on the railway, the railway
I’m sick to my guts of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-five
When Danny O’Connell he was alive
When Danny O’Connell he was alive
And working on the railway
I was wearing
corduroy britches, digging ditches
pulling switches, dodging hitches
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-six
I changed my trade from carrying bricks
I changed my trade from carrying bricks
To working on the railway
I was wearing
corduroy britches, digging ditches
pulling switches, dodging hitches
I was working on the railway

In eighteen hundred and forty-seven
Poor Paddy was thinking of going to Heaven
The oul’ bugger was thinking of going to Heaven
To work upon the railway, the railway
I’m sick to my death of the railway
Poor Paddy works on the railway

I was wearing
corduroy britches, digging ditches
pulling switches, dodging hitches
I was working on the railway