Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
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With people here working by day and by night
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They don't sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat
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But there's gangs of them diggin' for gold in the street
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At least when I asked them, that's what I was told
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So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold
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But for all that I've found there, I might as well be
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In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
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I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
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As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed
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But if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball
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They don't wear no tops to their dresses at all
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Oh, I've seen them myself and you could not in truth
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Tell if they were bound for a ball or a bath
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Don't be startin' them fashions now, Mary McRee,
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In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
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There's beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind
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Beautiful shapes Nature never designed
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Lovely complexions of roses and cream
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But let me remark with regard to the same
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That if at those roses you venture to sit
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The colors might all come away on your lip
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So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me
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In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
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You remember young Diddy McClaren, of course
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But he's over here with the rest of the force
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I saw him one day as he stood on the strand
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Stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand
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As we were talking of days that are gone
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The whole town of London stood there to look on
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But for all his great powers, he's wishful like me
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To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea
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Mountains O'Mourne
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| Don McLean |
