Ballad of the Month (May 2000)

The Mountains of Mourne

Oh Mary this London's a wonderful sight
With the people here working by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat
But there's gangs of them digging 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 digging 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 a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed
Well if you believe me, when asked to a ball
They don't wear a top to their dresses at all
Oh I've seen them my self, and you could not in truth
Say if they were bound for a ball or a bath
Don't be starting those fashions now Mary Macree
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 to 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 that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on
But for all these great powers he's wishing like me
To be back where dark Mourne sweeps 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 O'Loughlin 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