Oh, Mary, this London's a wonderful sight
The people here are 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 mournes sweep 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 that those roses you venture to sip
The colours might all come away on your lips
So I'll wait for the wild roses waitin' for me

In the place where the dark Mourne sweep down to the sea.

You remember young Davey McClarin of course

Well sure, now, he's 'round here with the rest of the force
I saw him one day as I was crossing the strand
and he stopped the whole street with a wave of his hand


And as we stood 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 mournes sweep down to the sea
But for all his great powers he's wishful like me

to be back where the dark mournes sweep down to the sea