Oh, Mary this London's a wonderful sight

With the 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 myself and you could not in truth

They 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.



You remember young Peter O'Loughlin of course

Well, now he is here 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 looked on

But for all these great powers, he's wishful, like me

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



--- Instrumental ---



There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind

With beautiful shapes nature never designed

And lovely complexions all roses and cream

But O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same.



That if at 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

Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea...