The 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 found there i might as well be where the

Mountains o'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 you'll believe me when asked to a ball, they don't wear

No top to their dresses at all.

Oh, i've seen them meself and you could not in truth say that if

They were bound for a ball or a bath,

Don't be startin' them fashions, now, mary mccree, where the

Mountains o'mourne sweep 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 let me remark

With regard to the same

That if at those roses you venture to sip, 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.