The Mountains of Mourne

Oh, Mary, this Londons a wonderful sight
The people here are working by day and by night
They dont sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat
But theres gangs of them diggin for gold in the street
At least, when I asked them, thats what I was told
So I just took a hand at this diggin for gold
But for all that Ive found there I might as well be
In the place where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea
Theres beautiful girls here, oh never you mind
Beautiful shapes nature never designed
Lovely complexions of roses and cream
But let me remark with regard to the same
That if at those roses you venture to sip
Colors might all come away on your lips
So Ill wait for the wild rose thats waitin for me
In the place where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea
You remember young Davey McClaren of course
Well sure now hes round here with the rest of the force
I saw him one day as I was crossin the strand
And he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand
And as we stood talkin of days that are gone
The whole town of London stood there to look on
But for all his great powers hes wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea
But for all his great powers hes wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea