The Celtic Tenors - The Mountains of Mourne Lyrics

Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
With the people here working 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've 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
But if you'll believe me
When asked to a ball
They don't wear a top to their dresses at all

Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in truth
Tell if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary McRee
Where the mountains of Mourne
Sweep down to the sea

You remember young Peter O'Lachlan, of course
Well, here he is now at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the Strand
And he stopped the whole street
With one wave of his hand

And there we stood talking of days that are gone
While the whole population of London look down
But for all his great powers
He's wishful like me
To be back where 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 of roses and cream
But O'Lachlan remarked with regard to the same

That if at those roses you venture to sip
The color 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