Dear Mary this London's a wonderful sight

Oh There's people here workin' by day and by night

They don't plant potatoes, nor barley, or 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 in writin' a wish you expressed

As to how the fine ladies in London are dressed

Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball

Oh They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all

Oh I've seen them myself and you could not in truth

Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath

Don't go startin' them fashions, now Mary McCree

Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.



Oh There's beautiful ladies, now never you mind

Loveliest shapes nature never designed

lovely complexions of roses and cream

But let me remark with regard to the same

For if that those roses you venture to sip

The color would 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.



You remember young Danny McClearin of course

Well he's over here with the rest of the force

I saw him today while I was walking the strand

And he stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand

And as we stood talking of days that had gone 

The whole town of London stood there to look on 

But for all his great power he's wishful like me 

To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea

Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea