Oh Mary this London's a wonderful sight
                                    With people here workin' 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 found there I might as well be
                                    Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea.
                                    I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed
                                    As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed
                                    Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball
                                    They don't wear no top to their dresses at all
                                    Oh I've seen them meself and you could not in truth
                                    Say that if they were bound for a ball or a bath
                                    Don't be startin' them fashions, now Mary McCree
                                    Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep 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 let me remark with regard to the same
                                    That if that those roses you venture to sip
                                    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.