Mountains O'Mourne

Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight With people here working by day and by night They don't sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat But there's gangs of them diggin' for gold in the street At least when I asked them, that's what I was told So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold But for all that I've found there, I might as well be In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed But if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in truth Tell if they were bound for a ball or a bath Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary McRee, In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind Beautiful shapes Nature never designed Lovely complexions of roses and cream But let me remark with regard to the same That if at those roses you venture to sit The colors might all come away on your lip So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea You remember young Diddy McClaren, of course But he's over here with the rest of the force I saw him one day as he stood on the strand Stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand As we were talking of days that are gone The whole town of London stood there to look on But for all his great powers, he's wishful like me To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea