The Mountains of Mourne

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Oh Mary this London’s a wonderful sight
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With the people here working by day and by night
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They don’t sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat
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But there’s gangs of them digging for gold on the street
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At least when I asked them that’s what I was told
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So I just took a hand at this digging for gold
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But for all that I found there I might as well be
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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 of 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
Sure I’ve seen them myself and you could not in truth
Tell 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

I’ve seen England’s king from the top of a bus
I’ve never known him, tho’ 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 he’s over 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 we stood there talking of days that were gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all his 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 waiting for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea