The Music Of Ireland
      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.

       

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