Mountains O'Mourne - Don McLean

Oh, Mary, this London’s a wonderful sight

With people here working 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 just took a hand at this diggin' for gold

But for all that I’ve found there, I might as well be In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea

I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed

As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed

But if you’ll believe me, when asked to a ball

They don’t wear no tops to their dresses at all

Oh, I’ve seen them myself and you could not in truth

Tell if they were bound for a ball or a bath

Don’t be startin' them fashions now, Mary Mochree,

In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea

There’s beautiful girls here, oh, never you mind

Beautiful shapes Nature never designed

Lovely complexions of roses and cream

But let me remark with regard to the same

That if at those roses you venture to kiss

The colors might 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 Diddy McClaren, of course

But he’s over here with the rest of the force

I saw him one day as he stood on the strand

Stopped all the traffic with a wave of his hand

As we were talking of days that are gone

The whole town of London stood there to look on But for all his great powers, he’s wishful like me To be back where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea