Dear Mary this London's a wonderful sight Oh There's people here workin' by day and by night They don't plant potatoes, nor barley, or 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 of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
I believe that in writin' a wish you expressed As to how the fine ladies in London are dressed Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball Oh They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all Oh I've seen them myself and you could not in truth Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath Don't go startin' them fashions, now Mary McCree Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
Oh There's beautiful ladies, now never you mind Loveliest shapes nature never designed lovely complexions of roses and cream But let me remark with regard to the same For if that those roses you venture to sip The color would 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.
You remember young Danny McClearin of course Well he's over here with the rest of the force I saw him today while I was walking the strand And he stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand And as we stood talking of days that had gone The whole town of London stood there to look on But for all his great power he's wishful like me To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea
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Copy to Clipboard: Dear Mary this London's a wonderful sight Oh There's people here workin' by day and by night They don't plant potatoes, nor barley, or 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 of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
I believe that in writin' a wish you expressed As to how the fine ladies in London are dressed Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball Oh They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all Oh I've seen them myself and you could not in truth Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath Don't go startin' them fashions, now Mary McCree Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
Oh There's beautiful ladies, now never you mind Loveliest shapes nature never designed lovely complexions of roses and cream But let me remark with regard to the same For if that those roses you venture to sip The color would 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.
You remember young Danny McClearin of course Well he's over here with the rest of the force I saw him today while I was walking the strand And he stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand And as we stood talking of days that had gone The whole town of London stood there to look on But for all his great power he's wishful like me To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea
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