The Mountains of Mourne
(P. French, H Collisson)
Key of G
Oh Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With the people all 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 how the fine ladies in London were dressed
Well if you believe me when asked to a ball
They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all
Oh I've seen them myself and you could not in truth
Tell that if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't starting those fashions now Mary mo chroi*
In the place where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea
I've seen England's king from the top of a bus
I don't really know him but he means to know us
And though by the Saxon we once were oppressed
I cheered, God forgive me, I cheered with the rest
And now that he's visited Ireland's green shoe
We'll be a lot 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 he's over here at the head of the force
I saw him one day I was crossing the strand
And he stopped the whole world with one wave of his hand
And as we were talking of days that are gone
The whole population of London looked on
But for all his great powers he's wishful like me
To be back where the dark Mournes sweep down to the sea
Oh there's beautiful girls here but ach, never mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
Lovely complexions of roses and cream
But O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if that those roses you chanced for to sip
The colors might all come away on you lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waiting for me
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
*chroi: Irish word for 'heart'