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 found there i might as well be where the
Mountains o'mourne sweep down to the sea.

I believe that when writing 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 top to their dresses at all.
Oh, i've seen them meself 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, where the
Mountains o'mourne sweep 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 let me remark
With regard to the same
That if at 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.