The Mountains of Mourne

The Mountains of Mourne - John Roche

Written by： Percy French

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's gangs of them digging 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 digging 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 writing a wish you expressed

As to know 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 if they were bound for a ball or a bath

Don't be starting such fashions now Mary mo chroí

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 Mournes 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 of 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