About This Work

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' gangs of them digging for gold in the streets 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 when writin' a wish you expressed As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed Well, if you believe me, when asked to a ball Faith, they don't wear no top to their dresses at all. Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in trath Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath Don't be startin' 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 And I've never known him, but 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, 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 a wave of his hand And there we stood talkin' 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 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 waitin' for me Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.