The Mountains O`Mourne

<br>P. French/H. Collisson<br><br>Oh, Mary, this London`s a wonderful sight with people here working by day and by night.<br>They don`t sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat but there`s gangs of them diggin` for gold in the street.<br>At least when I asked them that`s what I was told so I just took a hand at this diggin` for gold,<br>But for all that I found there I might as well be where the Mountains O`Mourne sweep down to the sea.<br><br>I believe that when writing a wish you expressed as to how the fine ladies in London were dressed,<br>Well, if you`ll believe me when asked to a ball, they don`t wear no top to their dresses at all.<br>Oh, I`ve seen them meself and you could not in truth say that if they were bound for a ball or a bath,<br>Don`t be startin` them fashions, now, Mary McCree, where the Mountains O`Mourne sweep down to the sea.<br><br>There`s beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind, with beautiful shapes nature never designed,<br>And lovely complexions, all roses and cream but let me remark with regard to the same<br>That if at those roses you venture to sip, the colors might all come away on your lip,<br>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.