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