Mournes

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