Oh Mary this London's a wonderful sight <br />With people here workin' by day and by night <br />They don't sow potatoes, nor barley, nor wheat <br />But there's gangs of them diggin' for gold in the street <br />At least when I asked them that's what I was told <br />So I just took a hand at this diggin' for gold <br />But for all that I found there I might as well be <br />Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea. <br /> <br />I believe that when writin' a wish you expressed <br />As to how the fine ladies in London were dressed <br />Well if you'll believe me, when asked to a ball <br />They don't wear no top to their dresses at all <br />Oh I've seen them meself and you could not in truth <br />Say that if they were bound for a ball or a bath <br />Don't be startin' them fashions, now Mary McCree <br />Where the Mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea. <br /> <br />There's beautiful girls here, oh never you mind <br />With beautiful shapes nature never designed <br />And lovely complexions all roses and cream <br />But let me remark with regard to the same <br />That if that those roses you venture to sip <br />The colors might all come away on your lip <br />So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waitin' for me <br />In the place where the dark Mourne sweeps down to the sea.<br /><br />William Percy French<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-mountains-of-mourne/
