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