The Mountains Of Mourne

Oh mary this londons a wonderful sight

With the people here working by day and by night

They dont sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat

But theres gangs of them thats what Ive been told

So I just ook a hand at this digging for gold

But all that I found there I might as well be

Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea

I believe that when writing a wish you expressed

As to how the fine ladies in london were dressed

Well if youll believe me, when asked to a ball

They dont wear a top to their dresses at all!

Oh Ive seen them myself, and you could not in truth,

Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath

Dont be starting them fashions now, marry machree

Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea

You remember young peter oloughlin, 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 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, hes wishful like me

To be back where dark mourne sweeps down to the sea

Theres beautiful girls here - oh never you mind!

With beautiful shapes nature never designed

And lovely complexions, all roses and cream

But oloughlin remarked with regard to the same:

That if all those roses you venture to sip,

The colour might all come away on your lip

So Ill wait for the wild rose thats waiting for me

Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea