| lyric | 1. Oh, Mary this London's a wonderful sight
with the 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 tat’s what I was told,
So I just took a hand at this digging for gold,
But for all that I found there I might as well be,
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
2. I believe that when writing a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed.
Well if you believe me, when asked to a ball,
They don’t wear atop to their dresses at all.
Oh, I’ve seen them myself, and you couldn’t in truth
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath.
Don’t be starting them fashions now Mary Macree
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
3. I’ve seen England’s king from the top of a bus -
I never knew him, though he means to know us;
And though by the Saxon we once were oppressed,
Still Icheered - God forgive me - Icheered 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.
4. You remember young Peter O’Loughlin of course -
Well now he is here at the head of the force.
I met him today, Iwas crossing the Strand,
And he stopped the whole street with one wave of his hand.
And there we stood talking 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 dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.
5. There’s beautiful girls here - oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes Nature never designed.
And lovely complexions, all roses and cream (crame)
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 waiting for me,
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea. |