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 In the place where the dark Mournes 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 tops to their dresses at all

Oh I've seen them myself 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

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 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.

You remember young Denny McLaren of course well he's over here with the rest of the force

I saw him one day as he stood on the strand stopped all the traffic with one wave

of his hand And as we were talking of days that are gone

the whole town of London stood there to look on But for all his great power he's wishin' like

me to be back where the dark Mournes sweeps down

to the sea