The Mountains of Mourne Oh Mary this London's a wonderful sight With people here workin' 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 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'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 of 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 that 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.