HuwThomas

By HuwThomas

Mountains of Mourne - from the sea

A picture to match the lyrics of this old Irish Ballard

The Mountains of Mourne

Oh Mary this London's a wonderful sight
with the people here working by day and by night
They don't sow potatoes nor barley nor wheat
But there's gangs of them digging for gold in the street
At least when I asked them that's what I was told
So Ijust took a hand at this digging for gold
But for aU that I found there I might as well be
Where the mountains of mourne sweep down to the sea
.
I believe that when writing a wish you expressed
As to how the fine ladies of London were dressed
Well if you believe me, when asked to a ball
They don't wear a top on their dresses at all
Oh, I've seen them myself, and you couldn't in truth
Say ifthey were bound for a ball or a bath.
Don't be starting them fashions now Mary Macree
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
.
I've seen England's king from the top of a bus
I never knew him, though he means to know us;
And though by the saxon we once were oppressed
Still I cheered-God forgive me- I cheered with the rest
And now that he's visited Erin's green shore
We'll be much better friends than we've heretofore
When we've got all we Want we're as quiet as can be
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea
.
You remember young Peter O'Loughlin of course
Well now he is here at the head of the force
I met him today, I was crossing the strand
And he stopped the whole street with one wave of his hand
And there we stood talking of days that are gone
While the whole population of London looked on,
But for all these great powers he's wishful like me
To be back where dark Moume sweeps 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 O'Loughlin remarked with regard to the same,
That if at those roses you venture to sip
The colours might all come away on your lip
So I'll wait for the wild rose that's waiting for me
Where the mountains of Mourne sweep down to the sea

Lyrics - Percy French

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