The Mountains Of 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 digging 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 found there I might as well be
 Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
 I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
 As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
 Well, if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball
 Faith they don't wear a top to their dresses at all
 Oh, I've seen them meself and you could not in trath
 Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
 Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary Macree
 Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
 I've seen England's King from the top of a bus
 I never knew him, though he means to know us
 And tho' by the Saxon we once were oppressed
 Still I cheered, God forgive me, I cheered with the rest
 And now that he's visited Erin's green shore
 We'll be much better friends than we've been heretofore
 When we've got all we want we're as quiet as can be
 Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
 You remember young Peter O'Loughlin, of course
 Well, now he is here at the head of the force
 I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
 And he stopped the whole street with wan wave of his hand
 And there we stood talkin' of days that are gone
 While the whole population of London looked on
 But for all these great powers he's wishful like me
 To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
 There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind
 With beautiful shapes nature never designed
 And lovely complexions all roses and cream
 But O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
 "That if at those roses you venture to sip
 The colours might all come away on your lip
 So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me
 Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea