Mountains of Mourne

Oh Molly this London’s a beautiful sight
Where the people are 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 took up my 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 writing one wish you’d expressed
As to how the fine ladies of London are dressed
Well if you believe me when asked to the ball
Faith, they don’t wear no tops to their dresses at all
Oh, I’ve seen it myself and I tell you in truth
I can’t tell if they’re bound for a ball or a bath
Don’t go startin’ those fashions now Molly Machree
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

You remember young Peter O’Laughlin of course
Well now he is here at the head of the force
I saw him one day I was crossing the strand
And he stopped the whole street with one wave of his hand
And there we stood talking of days long gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all his great power he’s wishin’ like me
To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
I saw England’s King from the top of a bus
Still I don’t know him still he claims to know us
And though by the Saxon’s we once were oppressed
Still I cheered God forgive me I cheered with the rest
And since that he’s visited Erin’s green shore
We’ve been much better friends than we’ve been heretofore
When we get what we want we’re as quiet as can be
Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

There are beautiful girls here-Oh, never you mind
With beautiful shapes nature never designed
And lovely complexions all roses and cream
But O’Laughlin remarked with regard to the same
That if at those roses you venture to sip
The colours 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