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The Mountains Of Mourne
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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


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